Walking Through Fire
by Marla Fair
Summary: A silent and unseen enemy has entered Charles Ingalls' home. As the family falls prey to it, one after another, their little house falls silent. Will help come in time? For Questfan - because she asked.
1. Chapter 1

A silent and unseen enemy has entered Charles Ingalls' home. As the family falls prey to it, one after another, their little house falls silent. Will help come in time?

This fan fiction is based on Chapter Fifteen of the Laura Ingalls' Wilder book, Little House on the Prairie, as well as the autobiography of Laura called 'Pioneer Girl. The silent and unseen enemy was real. As Michael Landon did, I have moved the story from Kansas to Walnut Grove and embellished it to make it more dramatic.

This is dedicated to Questfan for her loyal support of my writing – and because she asked.

Walking Through Fire

ONE

Charles Ingalls looked down at himself. He was all dirt and sweat. He glanced up at the early September sun and winced. It had been a hot and humid summer, and September so far had proven little better. Still, it seemed fall was finally on its way with the cooler evenings they'd experienced the past week or so. The last so many months had been demanding, the days too short for the work that needed to be done and the nights, well, just plain difficult. Sleep, it seemed, came hard as money. It was all wearing him down, but there was nothing to be done about it. The crops had to be brought in before they dried up right before his eyes and the animals tended, the house made ready for winter, and wood and food laid in. At the moment he was standing in the middle of a field of sweet corn that needed tending. Unfortunately, he was spending more time swatting mosquitoes than pulling weeds.

They'd been like a Biblical plague this year.

He shook his head as he squashed another one on his exposed skin. Thank goodness the tiny pests only ate people! If they'd been locusts, there would have been nothing left of the crops, just like that year the tornado swept through and cleaned everything away.

As he stood there, leaning on the handle of his hoe, Charles heard the sound of a wagon approaching. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the mid-afternoon sun and waited until it came into view. Then with a smile curling his lips, he picked up the water bucket he'd brought with him into the field and headed for the road. After swatting a few more mosquitoes, he lifted a ladle full of water from the bucket and took a drink while waiting for the wagon to pull up.

"Good afternoon, Charles!" Doctor George Tane exclaimed, his deep voice booming across the fields. "You been competing with the pigs for the mud puddle?"

Charles grinned. He swore that sound had to roll around gaining strength in the Black doctor's barrel chest before exploding out, it was so big.

"No, just wrasslin' with the corn."

"You better take it easy." The big man looked up. "That sun'll bake a man's brains right quick."

"Oh, that's all right," he said with a wink. "Caroline tells me mine are baked already." Extending the ladle, he asked, "Water?"

"Don't mind if I do."

Charles handed the doctor a ladle full. While Tane drank, he asked, "You going out to see to the Indians?"

"Not this time," Tane answered with a shake of his head. "I'm heading to Sleepy Eye for supplies. I've got an order coming into Olesons, but I need some things Nels doesn't carry." As he handed the ladle back, he asked, "You need me to pick up anything for you while I'm there?"

"Need?"

" _Want_ , then?"

He shook his head. "I don't have any money on me."

"Charles. What does the Good Book say about pride?" Dr. Tane shook his head. "I've been told there's no man more immovable about taking care of his own than Charles Ingalls."

Charles dropped the ladle in the bucket. "Guilty as charged."

Tane didn't miss a beat. "So what can I pick up for you, friend?"

He considered it. It was a simple, well, really a _silly_ thing, but he knew he'd been thinking about it for some time and he knew what it would mean to Mary and Laura.

"Well, don't spend over a quarter, but if you can find me some little blue beads."

The Black doctor's eyebrows slid up his slick shiny pate. "Blue _beads?"_

Charles turned and glanced back at the house. There was no sign of Caroline or Laura yet. They were out picking blackberries and due back any time. "You know the old Indian camp, the one two or three miles from here that's been abandoned?"

The doctor nodded.

"I took the oldest girls up there the other day. They found some small blue beads. There weren't enough to make a necklace for each of them, so they put them all together into one necklace and instead of fighting over it, gave it to Carrie."

He sure was proud of them.

"So you'd like to get each of those sweet little girls enough beads to make a necklace?"

"Just enough to put with a ribbon that'll be long enough to tie around their necks." He knew he couldn't afford enough beads for two necklaces.

Doctor Tane was nodding. "I'll go to the mercantile first. If I don't find them there, I'll try the lady's dress shop."

"If it's too much trouble – "

"No trouble at all," the big man said. "I'll come by on my return. Two, maybe three days from now."

"Just be sure to see _me_ ," he grinned. "It's a surprise for Caroline too."

"I'll be sure to do that," the doctor said as he slapped the reins against the horses' rumps. "You take care, Charles. Don't work too hard!"

Charles nodded and waved. He watched the doctor's wagon roll away and then pivoted on his heel back toward the corn. Unexpectedly, he lost his balance. For a second the world swam about him. By the time the spell had passed, he'd kicked the water bucket over and spilled the remaining liquid.

"Must _be_ that sun," he muttered to himself as he wiped his sleeve across his brow. Looking at the corn again, he thought a moment and then decided that it was time to head back to the barn. He'd done more than enough weeding for one day. There were plenty of other chores that needed doing and it was best he get to them.

Charles picked the empty bucket up and began to walk. He felt fine now.

Yeah. Must have been that sun.

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Laura! Laura?"

Where _was_ that girl?

Caroline Ingalls undid the knot under her chin that kept her sun bonnet on her head and let the cap slip back onto her shoulders. The afternoon was hot and though removing it allowed the sun bake her head, she just had to leave it down for a minute or two. The breeze, though warm, felt good in her wet hair. After glancing at the bucket full of blackberries at her feet, she turned her attention to the little girl who was sitting beside it. Carrie's tiny fingers and mouth had been dyed purple by the dozen or more times she'd dipped into it. Using her apron, Caroline wiped off as much of the sweet juice as she could before shooing her youngest off to play. Then she turned toward the creek and called again.

"Laura!"

Her answer came a second later. "Coming, Ma."

"Make it now! It's time to get back. I need to start work on supper."

"Yes, Ma'am!"

As she waited for her middle child to break through the thick underbrush that edged Plum Creek, Caroline batted at the annoying mosquito that whined close to her ear. A second later it landed on her arm. She swatted at it.

And missed.

"I found more berries, Ma, in the tall grass by the creek. A whole bucket full!" Laura declared triumphantly as she emerged.

Caroline smiled. Laura's fingers were as purple as her sister's. "Wonderful! That's enough to use a portion now to make pies and still save some for winter!"

"Can we make jam too, Ma?" her daughter asked as she set the bucket down. Laura didn't notice when her sister Carrie toddled over and took up a whole handful of berries and smashed them against her mouth.

Caroline sighed. There would be _multiple_ baths tonight.

When Laura saw what her sister was doing, she shouted, "Carrie! Those are for the pies!"

The blonde woman chuckled. "Let her alone, Laura. Her tummy has to be about full." She knelt down beside her youngest. "Isn't that right, Carrie?"

The little girl looked up, her tiny brows knit together. "My tummy hurts."

"Well, I'm not surprised!" Caroline caught her about the waist and lifted her up. "Can you carry both buckets, Laura?"

"Sure, I can, Ma." Laura picked them up and swayed with the weight. "Might just take me a little more time to get home than you and Carrie."

"I can have your sister walk."

"No, Ma'am, you go ahead. Mary will be waiting." Laura paused and then added, "Ma..."

"Yes?"

"I thought you should know. Mary said she was feeling kind of poorly this morning."

"Oh?" Caroline halted and looked back. Mary was not that far away from the surgery she had undergone to save her life after she had been kicked by a horse. "Why didn't she say anything to me?"

Laura looked instantly guilty. "She didn't want to worry you, Ma."

"While I appreciate that, I need to know if any of you girls are feeling unwell. Next time tell me immediately."

"Yes, Ma'am." Her middle daughter looked disheartened and then suddenly brightened. "Can I stop in the cornfield on the way home and see if Pa wants some berries?"

Caroline glanced at the sun, which was sliding down the sky toward the horizon. "I guess it wouldn't hurt. I'm sure your father would love some." She put Carrie on the ground and took her by the hand. "Give me one of the buckets, that way Mary can begin cleaning the berries."

"To make a pie for tonight?" Laura asked.

She cocked her head and gave her daughter one of those _looks._ "Take too long, young lady, and that pie will be made, cooked, and all eaten up before you or your pa get a piece!"

"I won't be long, Ma, I promise! Pa won't be either. You know how much he loves pie!" The child was running even as she spoke. Caroline noted by the trail left behind her that there would be a few less berries to put up for the winter, but then the joy the child experienced because she was doing something for her father more than made up for it. Charles' joy would too.

"Be careful!" she called after her.

"Be careful," Carrie echoed.

Caroline knelt down and pretended to twist the little girl's nose. " _You_ just be careful too. No more berries for today!"

Carrie echoed that too. "No more berries."

With her youngest in one hand and the blackberry bucket in the other, Caroline Ingalls headed for home.

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Laura was still frowning when she came into the yard. She hadn't found Pa, but she'd found his hoe back aways, leaning against the fence. Pa hardly ever left his tools out. Thinking maybe he'd left it behind on his way, she'd looked for him in the cornfield first. Finding nothing, she'd decided to try the barn.

If it'd been her who'd left that hoe out, she'd be in for a tongue lickin' at the very least.

Holding the blackberry bucket, she used her free hand to push open the barn door. The animals inside were restless. They were mooing and bleating, and kicking their legs while their tales swished 'cause of the mosquitoes. Not wanting to walk into a swarm, she called out before entering, "Pa? Pa, you in here?"

"Hey, Half-pint."

Laura scowled. Pa didn't sound like Pa. As she rounded the door, she found him sitting by his workbench. His hands and a short piece of wood dangled between his knees.

"You okay, Pa?" she asked as she crossed over to him.

"I imagine I am," he said. "Just tired, that's all."

She put the bucket down and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's sure a shame you have to work so hard, Pa."

He smiled and reached out, pulling her into the circle of his arm. "You know, Half-pint, it says in the Good Book that the sleep of a working man is pleasant whether he eats little or much."

"That's Proverbs, ain't it?"

He laughed. "Ecclesiastes."

"Oh, yeah..."

Pa stood up and looked down at her. "I won't tell your Ma, but you need to spend more time studying your Bible instead of playing with Jack."

"Yes, sir," she said. Picking up the bucket, she held it out. "I thought you might want some blackberries. Ma and I picked two whole buckets today."

"Are they sweet?" Pa asked.

She looked puzzled. "How would I know?"

"Well, I figured your Ma won't let you paint your lips purple, so that must be berry juice."

Her fingers went to her mouth. "I might have sampled one or two," she said with a grin.

"Or a whole bucket!" he snorted as he placed the piece of wood on the table.

She laughed too. "Carrie ate more than me. She's got a belly ache."

Pa reached over and cupped his hand around the lantern and blew the flame out, plunging the interior of the barn into early evening darkness. He held out his hand for her to take. "If that's so, we better go check on her, don't you think?"

As Laura took his hand, she asked, "You don't want any berries?"

He shook his head. "I got a bit of a belly ache myself. Maybe tomorrow."

"Ma will have a pie baked by then."

He made that 'mm-mm' sound he did and Pa's eyes lit up. "Now, you're talkin'."

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Caroline's head came up as Charles and Laura entered the house. She forced a smile and then let her eyes roll over to her oldest. Charles picked up on her intent instantly.

"Half-pint?" he said.

"Yes, sir?"

"Here, let me take that bucket. You go sit with Carrie. I can hear her makin' little noises. Sounds like she's hurting."

"Sure thing, Pa!"

As Laura skipped away to Carrie's room, Caroline watched Charles put the berry bucket down on the table and then cross to Mary where she stood by the stove.

"What're you cookin' up?" he asked her.

Their oldest turned her beautiful face toward him. "Blackberry filling. What else?"

Charles leaned over her shoulder and took in a deep whiff. "Mm-mm," he declared. "Nothin' better!" Then he asked, "You okay by yourself if I take your ma outside for a minute?"

Mary glanced at her and then asked in a conspiratorial whisper. "You gonna kiss her?"

"Maybe," her ornery husband replied. "That okay with you?"

Caroline delighted in Mary's giggle. Her oldest was always so serious, it did her heart good to hear her laugh.

"Mrs. Ingalls," Charles said as he approached her, "might I have the pleasure of your company?"

Two could play at this.

"Why, most gallant sir," she answered, "I do believe I would have to ask our daughter first." With a smile, she turned to Mary. "Is it all right if your Pa takes me outside?"

"Just don't keep her out too long," their oldest said, her voice mock stern.

Charles linked her arm over his. "I promise we'll be back in two..." he glanced at her "...better make it _three_ shakes of a mare's tail. Your ma's _mighty_ pretty."

They left the house to the sound of their child's laughter.

Once outside her handsome husband led her to the stump by the door they often occupied after supper. He seated her first and then took a place beside her.

"Well?" Charles asked as he circled her waist with his arm.

"I'm worried about Mary."

He nodded. They'd both been worried a good deal about Mary since her surgery.

"Something new?"

She looked at the house. "I'm not sure. She just... Well, she doesn't seem herself."

"How's that?"

"You know Mary. She never forgets anything I've told her. I had to correct her twice about cooking the berries. First she tried to put in salt, and then she put in too much sugar."

Charles pursed his lips in that way he had when he felt something was serious. "I don't know, Mrs. Ingalls," he said at last, "that you _can_ have _too_ much sugar."

She smacked him. Probably for the thousandth time since they'd met. "Ornery."

He squeezed her waist and pulled her in tight. Then he leaned over and planted a kiss on the nape of her neck. "And you _love_ it."

She did. But she would never admit it. "Charles...Mary?"

"Did she _say_ she felt bad?"

"Well. No."

"Mary's not the type to keep it from you, Caroline, you know that. Especially since...the surgery."

She heard it in his voice. The fear they'd both felt, the _helplessness_.

"I know, but..."

He stood and took her hand. "No 'buts'. I'm sure she's all right. Now, it's time we go back inside."

Charles was standing so the moonlight struck him. She looked at him, admiring his strong muscular frame and that mass of curly brown hair. Then she _really_ looked at him.

Before he could stop her, her hand shot out and landed on his forehead.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"I thought you might have fever. You look...odd."

He snorted. Then he pulled a face. "Like this?" he asked, opening his mouth wide and rolling his eyes back in his head.

A thousand and _one._

She smacked him harder this time. "Try that tonight in bed and see how far it gets you," she said deadpan.

She made him sputter.

"Mrs. Ingalls, I do believe someone has been a bad influence on you."

She anchored her hands on her hips. "Oh? And just _who_ would that be?"

Before she could stop him, Charles picked her up from the ground. Holding her in his arms, he kissed her.

"Me!"

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Laura was sitting at the table when their ma and pa came back into the house. Pa was carrying Ma and she was laughing. Pa was laughing too, but it was a kind of quiet sound with a lot of wind in it – something like the wind that was howling outside the house right now. It was kind of loud but it was keeping most of the mosquitoes away, so she wouldn't complain. Still, a few of the tiny bugs blew in with them and one landed on her nose.

It made her mad. Pa couldn't even play his fiddle for them landing on it and distracting him.

Pa put Ma down and Ma went straight to Mary and the pot of blackberriesgthat was cooking and making the room smell like Heaven.

Pa came to the table.

Catching hold of the back of the chair with his hand, he asked, "You been studyin' like I told you, Half-pint?"

"Yes, sir." She indicated the page under her hand. "Ecclesiastes five-twelve, but I like this one better." Laura moved her finger along the thin paper to the passage she was hunting. "Live joyfully with the wife whom thou lovest all the days of the life of thy vanity, which He hath given thee under the sun."

Pa came over and kissed the top of her head and then went and hugged Ma. "Nothin' prettier or better under that sun than Caroline Quiner Ingalls."

Laura loved it. Ma blushed right up to her eyebrows.

"Charles," she protested.

But she didn't mean it.

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Later that night as she lay in bed with her sister, Laura got a powerful thirst. She was careful how she threw the coverlet off so she wouldn't wake Mary, and then she descended the ladder and went into the kitchen to get a drink from the bucket of water Ma kept there. The house was quiet, but outside the horses' were nickering. The cows were noisy too. Probably still fightin' skeeters. At least _she_ had hands. She couldn't imagine trying to keep those pesky things away if she had only a tail to do it with. Pa had left the fire going since the night had turned cold. He said he hoped it would keep the bugs away too. After she got her drink – but before she headed back up the ladder – Laura paused by the entry to her parents' room.

Pa was making small noises, like he was dreaming and maybe the dream wasn't too nice.

She thought about waking him, but then that would mean he would know she was out of bed in the middle of the night and he'd get sore. One thing he wouldn't bend on was them getting their sleep. That time back before they went hunting together, he was right mad that she was up.

Laura shivered. _That_ trip wasn't something she wanted to think about. She still saw that gun falling and Pa falling with it, his side all covered with blood. She'd had plenty of nightmares about it. She'd seen her Ma sick and that was scary enough. But Pa... Pa was strong as a mountain. Seeing him hurt – maybe dying – well, that just wasn't something she was gonna forget for the rest of her life.

"Laura?"

Mary's soft voice drifted down the stairs.

"Shh!" she called back.

"What're you doing?"

"I was gettin' a drink," she answered as she placed her hand on the bottom rung.

"Well, get back up here. It's cold!"

Orders. Orders.

Everyone was always giving her _orders._

"Yes, Ma'am," she whispered slightly annoyed.

When she got to the bed Mary was already hunkered down under the covers. Her sister held the coverlet up and then let it drop as Laura took her place. A second later Mary caught hold of her and pulled her in close.

Mary was shivering.

Laura rolled over to look at her. "You okay?"

"I'm just cold. Now, be quiet. I want to sleep."

Orders first.

 _Now_ she was a hot brick wrapped in cloth.

Laura scooted back so her sister could put her arms around her better. Really, she _did_ like it. She just pretended she didn't. Wrapped in Mary's embrace, she turned her face into the pillow, realizing as she did that her sister was right.

It _was_ pretty cold.

A moment later she started shivering too.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

Charles reined the horses in and pulled the wagon to a stop. He jumped out and then turned back to offer Caroline his hand. She'd baked several fresh pies and brought two into town to give to Doc Baker and Lars Hanson.

Them being bachelors and all.

"Can we go to the store?" Laura asked as she slipped to the ground.

"Sure thing, Half-pint," he said as he took Mary's hand and helped her down as well. Caroline had Carrie in hand, so he didn't have to worry about his youngest one. "Matter of fact," he reached into the pocket of his homespun wool pants and held up two bright shiny pennies.

There was nothing like the way those girls eyes lit up. "Oh, Pa!" Laura exclaimed.

"Take Carrie with you, and buy somethin' you can share."

"We will!" Mary said as she accepted the two pennies. "Come on, Laura!"

As the two of them scooted off toward the Oleson's store, he turned to Caroline who was shaking her head. "You spoil them, you know."

"Two pennies worth is spoilin'?"

"You know we need every one of those pennies for the necessities of life, Charles. We can't –"

He stopped her with a finger to her lips. "We _can_. They're only little once. And you know..." He met her stern gaze, his own soft and entreating. "You know from what happened with Mary that any of the girls – or either of us – could be gone tomorrow."

She gripped his arm. "Charles, don't say such things!"

"You know it's true. We walked through the valley of death with Freddie and only you and I came out on the other side."

He knew it hurt her, mentioning their son's death. It hurt him too, but it was necessary. Charles kissed her quick. Brightening his tone, he said, "Now you go deliver those pies before the mosquitoes eat them!"

Caroline had tears in her eyes. She nodded. "I'll go see Doctor Baker first. Shall I meet you at Lars?"

"I've got some business to do with Nels first." He pecked her again on the lips. "I'll see you there."

Leaving Caroline behind, Charles headed across the street. He noticed as he went that the Feed & Seed was closed. The curtains were drawn and there was a 'closed' sign on the door. With a frown on his face, he vaulted up the steps to the mercantile and went inside. The frown turned into a grin when he saw his children with their noses pressed up against the glass case where Nels kept the candy.

"Oh, look Nels, it's Mister Ingalls!" a familiar if not wanted voice exclaimed.

He tipped his hat. "Harriet." Swallowing hard and begging forgiveness, he added, "You're looking lovely today."

 _That_ made her stumble. "My, we're in a chipper mood today, aren't we, Mister Ingalls?"

"God's in His Heaven and all's right in the world," he said as he bent and opened his arms, scooping Carrie up as she ran into them.

"Well, one would think, a person...in your position...might find things less than all right."

His _position_. Being 'poor' she meant.

Charles lips twitched. He could hear Caroline scolding him. "Well, you know what the Good Book says. 'The righteous is concerned for the rights of the poor. The wicked does not understand such concern."

Harriet gasped. "Are you calling _me_ wick – "

His brown brows knit in the middle. "Now, why would you think I was talkin' about _you?"_

Before she could reply Harriet's hen-pecked husband stepped into the room. "Charles! Good to see you."

Shifting Carrie to one arm, he took Nels hand and pumped it. "You too, Nels. You're looking good."

"Amazing as that is," he sighed as he moved behind the counter. "You go look after Willie, Harriet. I can handle this."

"About time too!" she huffed as she removed her apron. "Imagine having to leave my son alone when he's sick!"

Charles watched her go and then looked at Nels. "What's wrong with Willie?"

"Nothing that a day away from his over-protective, over-indulgent mother wouldn't cure," the thin man groused.

"So nothing's wrong?"

"Oh, he's got a mild fever. Probably some passing ague. He'll be fine with a little rest." Nels opened the door to the case and pulled out the candy container the girls had indicated. "Cinnamon drops. Excellent choice. There's a special now. Nine for two pennies."

"It says six," Charles said softly.

Nels eyes met his. "I said it was a _special._ Clearing out the old for the new. Doctor Tane is bringing back some fresh inventory from Sleepy Eye for me."

Charles wasn't fooled. It was hard for him to take charity, but then the Bible said it was more blessed to give than to receive. That meant he _had_ to let other people give to _them_ now and then.

"Thank you, Nels."

The store-keep smiled. "I can't think of three better little girls to take advantage of it!"

Nels handed the sack to Mary who looked up at him. "Can we eat them now, Pa?"

"One each. It'll be dinnertime when we get home." He gave Carrie a kiss and then deposited her on the floor next to Laura. "You take your sister outside and wait for me in the wagon."

In chorus Mary and Laura chirped, "Yes, sir!"

Thirty seconds later they were gone.

He'd come to discuss their bill and his paying of it. Nels wanted to extend the storeroom and he was going to hire him to do it. As they stood in the small backroom discussing details, he thought to ask, "I saw the Feed & Seed's closed, Nels. Do you know why?"

The store-keep nodded. "The whole family's been sick. They're better now. Doc Baker saw to them before heading out to the Jenkins."

"Oh?"

"Sick too. Seems there's something going around."

"What are the symptoms?" he asked.

"Fatigue. Then fever and chills." Nels looked around, as if to make sure none of the children were within earshot. "Doc thinks Maggie Jenkins may not make it."

His eyebrows shot up. "Its that bad?"

"If I was you, Charles, I'd take your family home and stay there. The Doc said if it gets worse there might be a quarantine."

He nodded toward the pile of lumber in the center of the room. "What about the work?"

Nels dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand. "Oh, Harriet will squawk, but with less custom there's no real need for the extra space now. Let's give it a week, shall we?"

Since it was to pay his bill off, that suited him fine.

"I'll see you in a week then."

Nels nodded. "You take care of yourself and that fine family, you hear?"

Charles nodded.

There was nothing else more important in the world.

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Laura was swinging her legs over the tail of the wagon and savoring her cinnamon drop. She was rolling it around in her mouth, letting the taste linger on her tongue for a few seconds before shifting it back to her cheek pocket where she thought it was safe. Mary was doing the same thing. Carrie, of course, had swallowed hers whole and was asking for more.

Mary had the bag and was holdin' it high. "Pa said only _one_ today, Carrie!" she declared.

Their little sister was a 'caution' as their ma liked to put it. She wrinkled her nose and then her chin started to shake and then she wailed to wake the dead.

"Ain't no use cryin'," Laura told her firmly.

Mary had dropped the bag and put her hands over her ears. "Get her to stop, Laura. It hurts! "

Puzzled, but willing, she scooped the bag up just before Carrie got hold of it and then wagged her finger in front of her little sister's eyes. "You be quiet, Carrie. If Ma hears you screamin', she'll give you a _reason_ too!"

At that her sister instantly straightened up.

"You seen your Ma yet?" Pa asked, startling her.

Laura turned to look at him. "No, sir."

He looked across the street. "She's probably with Lars," he said. "I'll go get her." Then Pa got a funny look on his face. "You stay put, you hear me? Don't go wanderin' off."

"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir." Laura frowned. "I mean, we'll stay put, sir."

Pa tapped her on the head and then was off to Mister Hanson's.

It wasn't five minutes later he and Ma returned.

Pa didn't say anythin' as he climbed into the saddle. Ma looked back with that 'worry' face she had.

The one that scared her.

"Is something wrong, Pa?" Mary asked.

She was always the bold one when it came to Ma and Pa.

"No, darlin'," their father answered as he snapped the reins and set the horses to flying.

For some reason, even though he didn't do it very often...

Laura knew Pa was lying.

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Charles caught Caroline's arm as she climbed down from the wagon and turned her toward him. "I told Hanson I wouldn't be in to work for a few days."

Worry creased the edges of her eyes. "Charles, can we afford that?"

"Well, I can't afford to be sick, that's for sure. And I don't want you and the girls gettin' whatever it is." He followed their children into the house with his eyes. "Especially not Mary."

"Do you think we've been exposed?"

"I don't see how, less Doc Tane was carryin' it. We haven't seen anybody else for a week."

Caroline had wrapped her arms about her middle. "I was thinking of Mary. Something's just not right with her."

He didn't dismiss it. Crossing to her, he wrapped her in his arms. "We'll keep an eye on her. Most like, just she's tired. She's been through a lot this year."

Caroline laid her head on his chest and sighed. A moment later she reared back. "Charles?"

"What?"

His wife's eyes were wide with fear as she reached up and touched his cheek. "You're hot."

He shrugged. " _It's_ hot."

She shook her head. "No, Charles. _You're_ hot."

"I'm fine, Caroline, really." He grinned as he caught her hand and pulled it away from his face. "Don't you think I'd know if I was sick?"

" _You_ don't know enough to come in out of the rain," she answered, her voice a bit harsh.

Charles blinked. "Caroline, I'm _fine_. Really."

Her look softened a bit. "Will you at least come inside?"

"It's mid-afternoon," he said with a shake of his head. "There's chores to be done. You know I can't."

He saw it warring in her – her pledge to submit to him and her wanting to protect him.

"All right," she said at last. "But come in as soon as you can. If you get sick, you'll do this family no good."

He cupped her face in his hand and leaned in and kissed her.

"If I get sick, at least I know I have _you_ to take care of me."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Laura was staring out the upstairs window, watching her pa kiss her ma. She hoped when she grew up that there was someone like Pa left to marry. Her Ma'd told her more than once that he was one-of-a-kind, so she was kinda discouraged about it.

She continued to watch him as they parted and Ma headed into the house. Pa was walking toward the barn, getting ready to go inside and do some chores. He was walking kind of slow, like he was tired. Laura went to her bed and sat on it. She pulled a blanket up around her shoulders and then let her head rest on the wall. She was feeling tired too. More tired than she had a right too. Sure she'd done some chores, but they'd spent the morning in town and that had been kinda like resting. Truth to tell, she felt kinda funny too. She couldn't get warm, and 'cause she was so cold all she wanted to do was wrap up in a blanket and lay down, but she couldn't lay down 'cause it was too early in the day. On top of that she couldn't keep still. Her legs just wouldn't stop moving. They hurt and though she rubbed and rubbed nothing seemed to make the hurt go away. Pulling another cover around the first one, she hunkered down in the nest she had created as she shivered again. It wasn't just her either. Mary was cold too. She'd come up earlier from cooking the new batch of berries and got a second shawl.

"Laura?"

Another shiver ran through her. "Yes, Ma?"

"Come down here. I need help with Carrie."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She was buried in blankets. She really didn't want to crawl out of them but if she didn't, she'd be in trouble. Ma would think she was slackin' and tell her so.

"Laura?"

"Comin', Ma!"

When she dropped the covers, she shivered yet again. This time so hard it made her teeth rattle. Laura looked longingly at the warm blankets laying on her bed. It was too bad she couldn't wear them _and_ make it down the ladder.

At the bottom, she turned toward her ma and waited.

At first Ma didn't see her. She was struggling to keep hold of Carrie who had purple fingers and a purple mouth again. When she did, she snapped, "What took you so long?"

"Sorry, Ma," she said as she hurried over to her sister and took charge. Mary was putting more berries in the kettle while wearing her two shawls. Her sister looked at her with sympathy.

Ma ran a hand along her forehead. "I'm sorry too, Laura. I'm..." She paused. "I'm worried about your pa."

As she fought to contain Carrie, she asked. "What for?"

"You know your father. Nothing slows him down." Her ma moved to the window. Pulling the curtain aside, she looked out toward the barn. "He'll kill himself one of these days," she said with a sigh. A second later, realizing just what she _had_ said, Ma apologized. "I'm sorry, Laura. I shouldn't have said that."

But she had.

"You want me to go out and get him?" Laura asked.

"No." Her ma ran a hand across her forehead again, wiping away more sweat. "Just get Carrie to bed. Please."

It took a storybook _and_ a song, but she did as her Ma told her too. Once Carrie was asleep she returned to the common room. Mary'd gone upstairs early, leaving the kettle on the stove, and her ma was sitting in her chair waiting on Pa to come in. Laura sat on the floor beside her and laid her head on her lap. When she felt a shiver coming on, she did her best to stop it, but Ma noticed anyhow.

"Laura, are you feeling badly?"she asked.

"No, Ma'am," she replied, and she meant it even though it wasn't _quite_ true.

Ma's hand went to her forehead. "You don't have a fever."

"No, Ma'am, I don't." Of course, she didn't mention that her head hurt and her back ached and her legs felt like she'd run a three mile race.

Her mother shifted. She took hold of her chin and forced her to meet her stare. "Laura, tell me the truth."

She swallowed hard over the lump in her throat. She really didn't want to worry her, but she didn't want to lie either – at least not outright.

"I kinda hurt, Ma."

"Where?"

She was afraid to say. She knew how it was. Once you admitted it, everything hurt even _worse._

"Laura."

When the words came, they burst out of her. "My legs ache, Ma. They ache _real_ bad."

Ma shifted to the floor and then reached out and lifted her skirts. When they went up it was like a icy cold wind had swept over her. It set her teeth to chattering.

Ma looked scared. "Mary!" she called.

It took a minute before Mary answered from the loft. "Yes, Ma'am?"

"Come and see to Laura. I think she might be coming down with something."

Her eyes went to her sister as she descended the ladder. At the bottom Mary shivered and pulled her double-shawl close about her throat before headin' their way.

Laura blew out a breath.

Ma sure wasn't gonna be happy when she saw Mary was sick too.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

 _Dear Lord!_ Caroline thought as she looked into her eldest's fevered eyes. How had she not seen? And _how_ had this happened? As Charles said, they'd been alone for the greater part of a week. No one had come to visit. Of course, Charles had been to the town. If there _was_ contagion there, he might have brought it home.

Caroline's hand went to her throat.

Charles.

Turning to Mary, she asked, "Are you well enough to get Laura into bed? Put her beside Carrie. I don't want any of you up in loft in case..."

"In case of what, Ma?" Mary asked, her voice strained.

She touched her child's cheek. It was hot. Keeping her tone as light as possible, she said, "We all need to be on one floor. That way we can look after each other. Now you do as I say, I need to check on your Pa."

Fear entered her eldest's eyes. "Is Pa sick too?"

"I don't know!" she snapped and then thought better of it.

At that moment, the door opened and Charles stumbled in with Jack nipping at his heels. He stood a moment, hanging onto the jamb, and then moved into the room, his eyes wide with worry. "Caroline?"

"Charles, the girls...they're sick!"

It was painful to watch him move. She was reminded of the time he had broken four ribs and every step was taken in pain. Charles moved to the table and took hold of the back of one of the chairs.

"Mary?" he asked. "You feelin' poorly."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Laura?"

Her middle child nodded. "I feel _real_ bad, Pa. I think I..."

Charles moved forward and caught her before she could hit the ground, and then carried Laura to Carrie's bed. Jack followed and took up a position at the foot as he laid their child down and then stumbled back a step.

She was at his side in a second. "Charles?"

He gave her a weary smile. "To be honest, Caroline, I don't feel any too well myself." He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "First I'm hot, then I'm cold, and I ache all over." He sat on the side of the bed and took Laura's chin in his hand. "Is that how you feel, Half-pint? Do your very _bones_ ache?"

"It hurts, Pa," Laura whimpered. "And everything looks sort of funny, like I'm under water."

"You'll be all right, Half-pint," he told her. "You just close your eyes and get some sleep."

Charles rose then and stepped away. As he did she moved in. Sitting on the edge of the bed she tucked the covers in, making sure Laura was completely covered.

"Caroline," Charles said.

She looked at him, noting the sheen on his skin and how his shirt was soaked through. When he spoke, his voice was ragged and he was breathing hard.

"I'll go get her some water."

"Ma..."

Mary was standing in the doorway.

"Yes, dear?"

"I hate to admit it, but I don't feel so good either."

A minute later Mary was in the bed next to Laura, shivering just as hard. Caroline picked Carrie up and took the sleeping girl into the common room. She nudged the wrap off her chair with her knee and then laid the child on it by the hearth. Their youngest hadn't shown any signs of sickness yet and it was better safe than sorry. As she crossed over to get another blanket from the chest to cover her with, she ran into Charles. He was standing in the middle of the room with a cup of water in his hand. He looked like he had no idea why he was carrying it.

She laid her hand on his arm. "Charles, you should lay down."

He shook his head. "There's too much to do."

"You look like you're going to collapse!"

"I'm fine," he growled.

"You are far from 'fine'," she snapped. "Look at you! You don't even know what you're doing." She drew a deep breath as she fought to control her temper and her fear. Lowering her voice, she said, "What good will you do the children if you kill yourself."

Laura cried out before he could answer. "I want a drink of water. Ma, I _need_ water!"

Charles shook himself free. His fevered eyes locked on hers. "There's no time to be sick, Caroline. You know that. The girls need us."

With that, he walked away.

Caroline closed her eyes and leaned wearily on the back of one of the chairs butted up against their table. Dear Lord! It had happened so fast! One moment they were well and the next Mary and Laura were fevered and Charles, dear ornery obstinate Charles, was not far behind. It was only a matter of time – and not _much_ time – before he would be laying in _their_ bed shivering.

Caroline whispered a quick prayer of thanks. So far, _she_ didn't have it.

"Dear God', she whispered, " _please_ keep me well."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Charles' hand shook as he lifted his daughter's head and pressed the cup to her lips. Mary was tossing and turning, but Laura – Half-pint – was out of her head, raving about him crouching in front of the fire, about the sunshine hurting her eyes, and about people talking, always talking, slow and soft and then fast and loud so she couldn't understand them.

"Here, Half-pint," he said, his voice softened by a father's fear. "Drink this. Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes and take a drink."

His daughter's eyelashes fluttered. She blinked and then opened her eyes and looked at him. "Pa..."

He forced a smile. "I'm here, darlin'. Come on now, take a drink."

A sound behind him made him turn. Caroline's hand landed on his shoulder. "Let me do that, Charles. You're sick yourself. Go to bed."

He thought a moment and then rose and handed her the cup.

As she took it, Caroline breathed, "Oh thank goodness! I didn't think you'd listen to reason."

His mouth was a firm tight line. "I can't go to bed, Caroline, and you know it. We need help."

She shook her head. "Charles, no! You can't... You're not well enough."

"I have to," he insisted as he looked sideways at the bed. "Laura and Mary are sick. Carrie's sure to follow. They need _you_ to look out for them." He took her shoulders in his hands. "No one's gonna come lookin', Caroline. We were just in town. I told Nels we were gonna stay put for a week. I _have_ to go for help." He paused. It hurt him, the fear in her eyes. "If _all_ of us were to fall sick..."

She was staring at him. A second later she laid her head on his chest. "Let me go. You can't push yourself so hard. I'm fine. I'm not sick. I can go." She looked up at him then. "You can look out for the girls..."

His fingers tightened on her shoulders. "No, Caroline. I can't."

A little pained sound came from the back of her throat. "What if... What if you fall ill on the way? What if you're lying out there all alone and no one comes by? Charles..." Caroline stopped. Her eyes went wide.

And then she swayed.

"Oh, no. Oh, _God_ , no..."

Charles laid a hand alongside her face. He could feel the heat rising. "Go to bed, Caroline," he said softly.

She shook her head, adamant. "You're sicker than I am, Charles."

He knew his smile was feeble, but he favored her with it anyway hoping it might raise her spirits.

"That as well may be, Mrs. Ingalls, but _you'll_ only get sicker if you don't rest and then you'll be no good to Laura or Mary." He paused and then added, his words quiet and certain. "Right now, you're the only hope they have."

With that, he turned and headed for the door. Upon reaching it, Charles took his coat from the peg and pulled it on. He stood there a second, relishing the added warmth, and then picked up the lantern by the door and lit it. Night had fallen and traveling was going to be risky. Still, he had little choice. As he placed his hand on the latch, he gave his wife another weak smile and headed out the door.

Once outside Charles slowly made his way to the wagon. It was a debate as to whether he should try to go to the next farm for help or head into town.

For all he knew, the neighbors were as sick as they were.

When he got to the wagon he took hold of the side and looked up at the seat. At the moment climbing into seemed just about as taxing as climbing a mountain. Determined, Charles placed his foot on the toe board and hefted himself up.

It would have worked too if his foot hadn't missed the board.

Before he knew it he was falling. His chin struck the toe board on the way down. Dazed, he fell against the wheel and then fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

As he lay there, eating dirt, a swarm of mosquitoes rose and whirled around him before settling in for supper.


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

Caroline sat in the chair by the fire, staring at the door Charles had walked out, waiting for him to return. He'd been gone several hours. She'd watched him up until the time he began to climb into the wagon and then had to sit down as she'd grown suddenly dizzy and her legs had given out. Even now she could feel the earth's gravity pulling at her, fighting to draw her to the floor. She wanted to give in – to surrender and fall into blessed darkness – but she couldn't.

Her children needed her.

Mary was calling for water, and Laura... Tears flooded her eyes. Her precious girl was crying out for her pa.

Closing her eyes, Caroline drew a deep breath. She gripped the arms of the chair with trembling fingers and pushed off, rising to her feet. Each step to the water bucket was leaden. She dragged her feet, and they made a terrible shuffling sound. It took a good two minutes for her to reach the bucket and when she did, it was only to find that nearly all of the water was gone. As she stood there, staring at it in disbelief, the front door creaked on its hinges. She pivoted, hoping it was Charles. Instead their dog, Jack, came in. Jack paused on the threshold and turned back to look outside, as if unsure which place he belonged, before advancing into the house. When he reached her he circled her feet and then sat down and whined, almost as if he understood what was going on.

She gave him a weak smile. "You're our...protector..." Her voice sounded weak in her ears. Caroline cleared her throat and tried again. "You're our protector, Jack, but you can't protect us from this." She glanced at the door. The dog's entry had left it partially open. "Go protect Charles, Jack. Go boy! Go. Find him now!"

Jack stared at her as if weighing who had the most need – her or Charles – and then he obeyed. Bounding across the floor he was out the door in a flash.

She watched him go and then turned back to the bucket

If only he could have fetched water!

Filling two cups from the bucket with what was left, Caroline carried them shakily across the common room to where the girls lay. She stumbled and lost a little of the water as she went, but arrived with enough to give each of them a drink. Mary was quiet – _too_ quiet. She barely responded when she called her name, and the only way she got any water in her eldest child was by forcing it between her lips and letting it trickle down her throat. All the while Laura thrashed and turned from side to side, talking to someone who wasn't there.

Turning to her middle girl, she lifted the child's head and placed a cup to her lips. "Here's some nice cool water for you, Laura. Drink it, dear heart. Drink it for mama."

At the sound of her voice, her beautiful child quieted. A moment later Laura's eyelids fluttered open. "Ma...?"

"Yes, Laura?"

Her child's eyes were wide and wild. They moved from side to side as if seeing something she could not. Laura's hand shot out, knocking the cup aside. She caught her child's wrist and held it, noting her skin was incredibly hot.

"Where's...pa? Ma..." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Pa... Is he...sick too?"

She hesitated. Would it do any good to confirm the child's fears when she was so weak?

"Your pa's on his feet," she said, knowing it was not _quite_ a lie. Caroline's gaze returned to the partially open door. "He's taking the wagon and going for help."

"Is...he...gonna get...Doc Baker?"

"I'm sure he will if he can," she assured her as she pulled the cover up about her chin. Leaning down, she planted a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Don't you worry. Your pa can take care of himself. You just get some sleep."

Laura barely nodded before she was asleep.

As she straightened up, a shiver ran the length of her. Caroline frowned. She'd laid Carrie by the hearth on her shawl. She'd have to get another one from their bedroom.

At the moment their bedroom seemed _awfully_ far away.

Rising, she started that direction, only to pause as a curious sound caught her attention. Caroline listened. Her heart skipped a beat.

Jack was howling.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

After regaining consciousness Charles dragged himself up and onto his feet. He stood now, hanging onto the side of the wagon, battling his body and praying to God. Somehow... _somehow_ he had to find the strength to go for help. It broke his heart to think that Caroline was coming down with whatever had laid the Mary and Laura low. It wouldn't be long before she couldn't take care of herself, let alone look after the girls. As a small blessing, it seemed so far Carrie had not come down with whatever plagued them, though he expected that would change real soon. Doc Baker had told him once that this kind of sickness was called an _infectivity._ It was something that came to live in a person, something uncaring that took what it needed to survive. The Doc said no one knew much about how or why it happened. Only that it laid in wait and then pounced like a rush of storm-swollen water taking whoever was in its path down.

Charles glanced at the wagon seat again. The ramrod straight boards seemed to wobble and shift as dizziness laid claim to him. He lowered his head and rested it on his arm. Since speaking to God in his head didn't seem to be doing any good, he spoke aloud.

"Lord, you gotta get me into that seat. I've got to help my family." Tears spilled down his cheeks, wetting the green and blue plaid shirt he wore. "I know, Lord, that suffering is a part of living, but these are my _babies.._ To have to see them suffer so and not be able to do _anything_..." He paused and drew a steadying breath. "If you have to take someone, then take _me_. I told you that with Freddie, but you didn't listen. God...I can't bear to lose another one. Please, listen _this_ time...

"Lord..."

Something tugged at his ankle. Charles lifted his head from his sleeve and looked down. It was Jack. He was trying to drag him back inside.

Feebly he batted at him.

"Go back, boy. Go back into the house." When the dog ignored him and continued to pull at his trouser leg, he grew angry. "Go inside, Jack! Caroline may have need of you."

Jack was going nowhere. The dog lowered his front quarters to the ground, flattened his ears, and growled low in his throat like he did when he sensed danger. Jack barked sharply several times and then began to pace back and forth between the house and the wagon. Charles frowned. He knew animals could sense things people missed. He looked at the house and wondered if there was something going on in there that he needed to know about.

The front door seemed a _million_ miles away.

"You want me to go in, boy?" he asked, his voice sounding weak in his own ears. "Does Caroline need me?"

Jack barked again, and again he danced toward the house.

Charles thought a moment and then pushed off the wagon. As he stood there, shivering and sweating and wobbling on his feet, with his back aching and his head pounding, he spoke to God again, this time reminding Him of His promise..

"I'm holdin' you to Your word, Lord," he breathed. "You promised to give strength to the weary and to increase the power of the weak." Charles wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve and then ran it under his nose. "You gotta get me into that house."

Jack went before him whimpering and barking short harsh barks. Charles followed, barely keeping his feet. It was like the dog was talking to him, urging him to press on and to fight when there was just no fight left in him. As they approached the door, the dog bolted into the house and disappeared. Charles paused with a hand to the porch post. He glanced at the sky, noting the moon was full and high, and then he staggered onto the stoop and fell forward to grasp the latch. Night had fallen. He needed to get a fire going. Light some lanterns.

Maybe if someone saw a light in the middle of the night they'd stop.

"God," he pleaded, "send someone by."

The first thing that struck him when he opened the door was the silence. There was nothing but Jack's whimpers and the sound of heavy breathing. The light streaming in the open door showed him Carrie was no longer in front of the hearth. Instead Caroline was holding her and sitting on the edge of the bed in which Mary and Laura lay.

When she heard him enter his wife slowly raised her head and looked his way. Charles sucked in air at the sight. It was like that time she'd cut herself on the wire and nearly died. Caroline's face was the color of ashes and her eyes were ringed with shadows. He started toward her and faltered, almost losing his balance, and then continued on until he reached her.

She sat on the bed, rocking gently back and forth, humming a tune low in her throat. Her voice was raspy and every so often she coughed.

Charles placed his hand on her shoulder and said gently, "Caroline, you need to lay down."

She kept on rocking.

"Caroline," he said more firmly. "You need to rest. I'm going to take Carrie."

As he moved to do so his wife looked at him, her eyes wild. She pulled Carrie closer. "No!"

For a moment he feared the worst, but then he saw Carrie shift and her little hand went to her mother's cheek.

Charles dropped to the edge of the bed beside his wife and met her wild stare. "Darlin', you're sick. You don't want to make Carrie sick too, do you?"

She'd been looking down at the child. At his words, Caroline looked up. She blinked several times and seemed to come to herself. Her eyes went to Mary and Laura.

"Charles, they're so sick..."

He touched her face with his hand. It felt normal, but then that was probably because _he_ was burning up too. "I know. You get to bed. I'll take over."

"Did you get to town?" she asked, clearly confused.

As he rose slowly to his feet, he said, "No. I sorta took a nap and then Jack came and got me." Charles forced a smile. "He knew you needed me. Now, come on, give Carrie to me and you get to bed."

Reluctantly she surrendered their youngest to his arms. Caroline rose to her feet and a second later nearly went back down. Steadying herself with a hand on the bedpost, she turned fevered eyes on him.

In that look was every bit of trust and confidence, and all of the responsibility of being the man of the house. It said she _knew_ he would take care of them.

He accepted every bit of it.

"I'm gonna put Carrie in our bed. You need to come too."

Caroline touched his face as she nodded her agreement. On the way to their room, she pointed to the bucket in the kitchen. "We need water, Charles. We're almost out."

"I'll get it," he assured her as he threw the coverlet back and deposited Carrie in the middle of their bed. He took his wife by the shoulders then and gently forced her to sit. "You lie down and lay against her. You two need to keep each other warm."

He didn't know if he was placing Carrie in more danger, but there really wasn't anything else he could do. There was no way to keep her from everyone else and, when she woke up, she'd come looking for one of them anyhow.

Charles balanced himself as best he could with a hand to the headboard and leaned down and planted a kiss on his wife's hot forehead.

Caroline murmured something, sighed, and fell silent.

With a hand to the wall he made his way back to the kitchen and picked up the bucket. The trip to the well was grueling and took ten times longer than it should have. Jack went with him, growling and barking all the way. When he got back to the house Charles placed the bucket on the floor by the table and then went to check on the girls. Laura was tossing and turning and whimpering like she was in the middle of a nightmare. Mary? Well, Mary was laying still.

So still.

Leaving them, he returned to their room and found both Caroline and Carrie sleeping.

Completely exhausted, Charles made his way to the fireplace and laid in a couple of logs. His hands shook the entire time he tried to kindle the fire, but finally he managed it. As the log caught, its flickering light cast shadows around the cabin – weird, unnerving shadows. He stared at them as they danced on the common room walls. The room should have been filled with laughter and music. Instead it was quiet as a tomb.

Charles coughed and then swallowed hard. He was thirsty himself. Crossing to the table he leaned over to pick up the bucket.

And went down.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Those people wouldn't go away. They kept talking and talking, first so loud she couldn't make out what they were saying and then so quiet their words got lost. The voices came fast sometimes and then, really slow. When she opened her eyes to see who it was that was so dad-burned stuck on chattering, everything in the room seemed to get tinier and tinier and move slow as molasses. Then, all of a sudden, everything was big, and moving so fast it seemed they'd bust right out of the room. And all the while somewhere a coyote was barking and howling. It had to be a coyote. She remembered her pa telling her when the mangy gray animals bark-howled it meant they were feeling threatened. This one sounded scared. The barking and howling hurt her ears. The insistent sound pounded through her head, so much so that she lifted her hands and put them over her ears to shut it out.

Laura sighed with relief when it worked and the sound went away. Then, as she turned over to try to go back to sleep, it started again. Even louder this time.

Mary moaned and turned over to look at her. "What is...that?"

She _sure_ was feeling poorly. "Are you okay, Mary?"

Her sister licked her lips. "I'm thirsty."

She was thirsty too. Laura turned her head and looked toward the main part of the house. The big room was dark except for the light cast by a flickering fire. There were shadows moving in it. One of them was near the floor. It kept moving from one side to the other, coming toward her and then backing away. It took her a minute, but she finally realized it was Jack. He was pacing back and forth. Every so often he'd stop and pull at something on the floor and then let out one of those barking-howls.

He was right upset about something.

"I'm...thirsty," Mary repeated.

Laura sighed. She felt awful herself, but she was better than Mary. There was nothin' to it. She had to get her sister some water. As she pushed the covers away, she wondered where their ma was. Ma was usually right there when any of them were sick.

She sure hoped _Ma_ wasn't sick!

Leaning over, she touched Mary's arm and said, "I'll go get you some water. You just lie still. You hear?"

Mary nodded weakly but said nothin'.

Getting up wasn't gonna be easy. Every time she tried her head swam like a fish in a pond. When she finally worked her way to her feet Laura felt like she was gonna throw up, and so she dropped to her knees and sat on the floor and put her head down between them. While she was sitting there Jack came and licked her face. She reached out and patted his head. In response he nudged her arm and lifted it.

Good old Jack, he was trying as best he could to help her get to her feet, but it weren't no use.

So instead, she crawled.

Jack went in front of her. She couldn't see him, but she could hear his toe nails clicking on the wood floor. Near the end of the table her hand hit the bucket. It was sitting on the floor of all things! She wanted to use it to pull herself up, but was afraid she'd pull it over and spill out all the water if she did. Instead she reached for the bottom rung of the chair.

Her fingers ran into something soft.

While she was sitting there, with whatever it was twined in her fingers, Jack stopped pacing and came to stand by her. He placed his muzzle against her hand and then moved it to the soft stuff and whimpered. It took about all that was in her to move her hand and feel what else was there. When she did, her breath caught and her heart nearly stopped.

It was Pa.

Pa was laying on the floor!

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Charles was locked in a fever dream where a tornado ripped through his land. He'd been away and as he approached the house, he saw the vortex dipping down out of the steel gray sky like a fist with fingers, gripping the roof and ripping it right off. The front door was hanging on its hinges and the windows had been blown out. Their animals were out of the barn, running loose. The horses were snorting with fear and the cows mooing for all they were worth, and all the while the wind whirled, lifting debris into the air and carrying it away.

Lifting his child and carrying _her_ away.

He could hear her crying – Laura was calling his name. He ran after her screaming, shouting as loud as he could, reaching out and jumping up, trying to catch her feet, but they were just out of reach. _Laura_ was just out of reach.

His child was going to die.

Charles gasped and his eyes flew open. Reality beat into him. He ached all over with a bone deep ache like a cancer. And he was cold – so _very_ cold. His whole was body shaking from tip to toe.

He liked to die.

Then he heard it again. Laura's voice. Calling him.

"Pa?"

Pain shuddered through him. He moaned and turned his face toward the floor.

"Pa? Can you hear me?" Something touched his face. Someone spoke. Their voice shook almost as much as he did. " _Pa?"_

Charles climbed up from wherever pain and fever had taken him. "Half-pint...?"

"Oh, Pa!" He felt Laura's head fall on his chest. Her tears wet his shirt. "Oh, Pa, I thought..." She didn't finish the sentence.

She didn't have to.

Charles drew in a breath. Using what little strength he had, he raised his hand and touched her arm. "What're you doin'...out of bed, Half-pint?"

"Mary's thirsty. I was lookin' for the water bucket, Pa," she said, caressing his hair. "But...I found you."

He turned his head slightly, trying to remember where he was. He could see the outline of the table legs, highlighted by the fire's glow.

He was on the floor.

"So...you did." He hoped she could hear the weak smile in his voice. "I guess I...just kinda...gave out."

Laura small fingers gripped his shirt. "Oh, Pa! I was so scared."

"I'll be...right as rain...soon enough. You'll...see." His fingers found her pigtail. He tugged on it. "Say...can you do somethin' for me, Half-pint?"

She raised her head from his chest and looked at him. "Anythin', Pa."

"Can you...go...check on your ma? She...and Carrie are...in our room."

She turned and looked. "It's a long way, Pa."

He tapped her hand. "I...know. Just forget I asked. I'm not...thinkin' straight. You get yourself...back to your sister...with...that water, you...hear?" He started to push up on one elbow. "I'll...check on your...ma..."

A wave of nausea drove him back to the floor. It was a good thing they _hadn'_ t eaten supper before they were struck down. It would have all come back up. As he heaved, clutching his side to lessen the pain in his ribcage, Laura held him. When he lay back, spent, she put a hand to either side of his face and looked into his eyes.

"You hang on, Pa. I'll get you some water."

He wanted to tell her not to, to order her to leave him be, to go back to her bed and take care of herself and her sister, but he didn't have the strength to speak or the will to argue.

A moment later he felt his head being elevated and a trickle of water – like manna from Heaven – coursing between his lips.

"Better?" his little angel asked.

He gripped her wrist. There were no words.

"Charles?"

Laura stiffened. She looked down at him and then toward their room. The firelight revealed his daughter's fevered and fearful face. She knew what her ma would do if she knew he was lying there helpless on the floor.

He shook his head, begging her to say nothing. "Caroline," he called back.

"Oh, thank goodness." There was a pause and then a question. "Where are you, Charles?"

"I've got...a bed on the...floor by the fire." He drew in air, trying to add strength to his voice. "Don't you...worry about...me."

"The girls?"

"Half-pint's...gettin' Mary a drink."

"Laura? Are you better?"

It took a second for her to answer. "I don't know, Ma. Mary was so thirsty, I just had to get her some water."

He squeezed her hand. "You need to...take it to her."

Laura looked down at him. "I don't want to leave you, Pa."

"You go now." He patted her hand. "I'll...be...fine."

"Charles!"

There was panic in her voice. "What is it, darlin'?"

"...Carrie's sick too."

Dear God in Heaven!

As Laura shifted back, Charles pushed himself up and onto his elbows. They needed him. His family needed _him_. Determined to rise, he rolled over and caught the rung of the chair and dragged himself to his knees.

Unfortunately, the infectivity was _just_ as determined as he was. Seconds later the floor rushed up to smack him in the face.

And he knew nothing more.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Laura put her hand on her pa's head and brushed back the soppin' wet curls. Pa looked so sick she could hardly stand it, just like he had when he'd they'd found him in that crick after she'd gone to get Mister Edwards. She tried calling him again. When he didn't answer, she laid her head on his chest once more. It was rising and falling rapid as a stream tumbling over rocks after a storm. His heart was stampeding in his chest, so hard she could feel it pound against her cheek.

Other than her pa's heartbeat, the house was silent.

Laura lay there thinking and praying for a good many minutes, asking God to take care of all of them and to send someone to help. She'd heard of whole families dying before from sickness. Doc Baker'd seen it and it made him so sad to talk about it, the look on his face made her want to cry. It must be hard to be a doctor, she thought, knowing everything you know and not being able to help people all of the time.

Would he be able to help them, she wondered? Would Doc Baker come? Or were they all gonna...

Die.

Laura knew all about Heaven and she guessed it wouldn't be so bad if all of them went there at the same time. It'd be good for Freddie, too, since he wouldn't be alone no more. Ma said they'd be eternally young there. She said there was work there, but not the hard labor that Pa had to do, that made his back hurt and gave him that weary pinched look around his eyes. So that'd be good. Ma'd get to rest too and she sure didn't get much of that here. Laura shifted so her hand was on her pa's face. Pa'd been so sad when Freddie died. He'd be happy to see him. Ma said the children in Heaven were never sick and that they laughed and played and that Jesus said he wanted them to come to him. Maybe it was so he could laugh and play too. Laura frowned. She loved Jesus, but she didn't want to see him yet.

There were too many things she wanted to do.

She wanted to grow up and marry a man like Pa. She wanted to have children of her own. She wanted to see the big cities and she wanted to teach, just like Miss Beadle. Maybe write...

Wasn't none of it going to happen if they didn't get help.

Shifting, she sat up and looked at her Pa. He looked like he was sleeping. She gave him a kiss and then rose to her feet and stood there, hanging onto the back of the chair, deciding what to do. Pa couldn't go to get help so she'd have to. She had to get in that wagon and drive it to town and get help. She'd seen Pa do it often enough.

"I can do it," she said out loud.

She could _save_ her family.

Laura picked up the bucket. First she'd get that water for Mary. She took two steps and then halted as the world spun around her. Drawing a steadying breath, she took another one and this time the sound of the fire licking at the logs swelled in her ears, pounding in tune with her hammering heart. Then, those tiny loud-soft voices came back, laughing as the things in the room grew tiny and then large, and then tiny again. She stumbled toward Carrie's room, dragging the bucket with her, spilling most of its contents as she went. Mary was calling for water again. Her head spinning, she sat beside her and dipped the ladle in. Then she brought it to Mary's lips and managed to get some water between her sister's lips.

After that, Mary went quiet.

Laura dropped the ladle on the floor and then crawled under the coverlet and laid against her sister. She'd grown cold while she was with Pa and was shivering. It was gonna take her a long time to get warm.

Laura turned her head toward the room where Pa lay.

She wondered if he was still living.

And then everything was silence.


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

"Good morning, Tane!" Doctor Hiram Baker exclaimed as he stepped out of the mercantile to find George A. Tane, the Black doctor who treated the Osage Indians, sitting in front of the Oleson's place with a wagon partially filled with goods. "You heading somewhere?"

George Tane was a big man with a big smile and an even bigger laugh. "Mornin', Hiram!" He glanced in the back of his wagon. "This here is what I picked up from Olesons for the Indians. It's some powders I ordered from New York." He patted his pocket then. "And I've got something here for the Ingalls' girls. I'm going to deliver both before I head back to the reservation."

He squinted into the sun. It was mid-afternoon and the light was dead in his eyes. "Something for the Ingalls' girls, eh? Some pretty new cloth, I bet." He glanced behind. "I know how Caroline hates buying fabric from that old bat in the mercantile."

George's laugh blew out and rattled the rafters of the store behind him. "Now, Hiram, where's your Christian charity?"

He raised an eyebrow and twisted his lips. "The Good Book just says I have to _love_ Harriet Oleson, not like her."

George was shaking his head. "No, it's not fabric for Caroline. It's a bag of beads."

He was sure the Black doctor was enjoying the look of puzzlement on his face. "Beads."

The other man nodded. "Seems Ingalls took the older girls up to the old Indian village at Claremore. While they were there, Laura and Mary found some blue beads. They ended up having only enough for one necklace and they gave it to their little sister instead of fighting over it."

Hiram smiled. "I see. And Charles wanted some beads for the other two girls."

"I bought what I could with what he gave me," George said, thoughtful. "Before I came to town I went to the Reservation and asked the women there for more. They gave me enough to add to it to make three necklaces – one for each of them _and_ for their ma." He grew serious. "They know Charles is an honorable man and has done all he can to help their people when there's need."

"You'll have a hard time getting Charles to accept that," Hiram answered. Charles was a good man, but if he had one fault it was his pride. Of course, the man actually had _two_ faults – a high-flying temper was the other one.

George grinned. "I know. That's why I'm giving them to Caroline!"

Doc Baker chuckled. "That poor man. Four women in the house. All with feminine wiles."

"It's Laura's got him under her thumb," the big man replied with an affectionate smile. "Half-pint of cider, indeed. She's about as sweet as they come." Tane leaned back in the wagon seat and lifted the reins. "Well, I better get going if I intend to make the Ingalls' place before dark."

Hiram nodded. "I'm glad we caught Charles in time to send him home before the family could be exposed to whatever it is that's running through the town." He tipped his black hat back and squinted into the distance, his eyes narrowing with what he saw there. "I lost a family to it yesterday. Mother, father, and a baby. They were sick but no one knew it. By the time I got there, it was too late."

The Black man shook his head. "I heard it was bad. Didn't know it was _that_ bad."

"It's _that_ bad and worse," he replied. "Though it looks like it might be slowing down. Every day there are fewer cases." He thought a moment. "I meant to get out the Ingalls' myself just to check on them, but there simply hasn't been time. I'm glad you're going."

"I'll do it for you!" George proclaimed. And with a slap of the reins and a hearty ' _yeehaw!_ ' he took off down the road.

Hiram watched as Doctor Tane's wagon diminished and disappeared from sight. He hadn't said anything, but since the day before last the Ingalls had been constantly on his mind. He didn't know why, but he was certainly glad Tane was going to check on them.

With one last glance to the east of town where Charles' homestead lay, Doctor Hiram Baker left the Oleson's Mercantile and the old bat inside behind and returned to his practice.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The sunlight that penetrated the common area of their home was rich and golden. It crawled across the floor, climbed up the table legs and ran across the table top before catching fire in the copper kettle Mary had left on the stove. Caroline frowned as she looked at it. There were bugs swarming in the sunlight. Mary must have left it unattended.

The pies would be ruined.

Caroline shifted to ease a pain in her back. She'd awakened a few minutes before from a deep sleep. She could tell by the slant of the beams that the sun was near setting. She couldn't imagine why she was still in bed and even more, why she was still wearing her clothes. It wasn't until she sat up and the room spun about her that it all came back to her in wave after nauseating wave. The girls were ill. Charles was ill. _She_ was ill.

And no one knew.

Closing her eyes, the blonde woman steeled herself and then struck out with a hand, searching until she found the bed post. Catching hold, she pulled herself up into a seated position and then sat there breathing hard, waiting for her head to stop pounding and her stomach to settle.

It didn't happen.

After a moment she licked her lips. She was _incredibly_ thirsty. So much so she felt like running down to the creek and sucking it dry. Thinking of water made her think of Laura and she remembered that was the last thing she had done – given her daughter a drink of water – before she'd fallen ill. It had been mid-afternoon then. It was late afternoon now.

Was it the same day?.

A shiver coursed through her and she drew the coverlet up about her chin. Thank goodness Charles was still on his feet. She could see him helping her to the bed, tucking her in, and then going to check on the girls. He was sick too, but that strength she loved so much had enabled him to keep him going because all of them were in need.

She loved that man!

The nausea was tolerable now and the pounding in her head had fallen off to a quiet thumping, like someone gently knocking on the door. Her throat was parched and she was shaking like a leaf but she thought, with God's help, she might be able to get to her feet and check on her other children. Carrie was asleep in the bed beside her. She had a low fever, but seemed to be sleeping naturally. She could only pray her others were as well.

Clinging to the bed post, Caroline planted her feet on the floor and rose. It was a good thing she held on because the world lurched as she did and then the room spun about her for a full minute before settling down. Drawing a deep breath, she pushed off of the post and headed for the wall that separated their bedroom from the kitchen. Once there, she paused a moment and then staggered forward until she was hanging onto the stove. The scent of rotting berries and the sight of insects swarming about the pot turned her stomach.

Sadly, from the state of the food, they had _definitely_ been ill for more than one day.

As she stood there with her hand on her mouth, fighting the urge to vomit, Caroline felt something stir at her feet. The touch of a warm muzzle told her it was Jack. He must have been sleeping under the table and awakened when she came into the room. He was whimpering. She wanted to reach down and pet him to reassure him, but she knew it wouldn't be wise. Her balance was precarious. She would probably fall and – once down – she very much doubted she would be able to get up again.

Jack barked. Then he caught the hem of her skirt in his teeth and tugged.

"Jack, no. I can't play," she said wearily.

The fluffy little animal whimpered again. Louder this time. And tugged harder.

She glanced at the door. It was partially open, which seemed odd. Maybe, since Charles wasn't in the house, he had gone back outside. "I can't go outside, Jack. I'm too sick."

The dog released her hem. He lowered his ears and growled Then he barked.

And grabbed her hem again.

It took a minute for his unusual actions to penetrate the daze.

Something was _wrong._

"You want me to go with you, boy?" she asked, her voice quavering.

Jack yelped and tugged again. Then he pranced toward the table.

Giving in, she followed him. As she did, he disappeared into the shadows and growled again. Curiously, the sound was muffled as if he had something in his teeth and was tugging at it. She stumbled after him and made it to the table before she had to pause – gripping its edge – in order to wait for the room to stop spinning. As she did Jack backed into the remaining sunlight. He was definitely dragging something.

When she saw what it was her heart stopped.

"Charles!"

Caroline dropped to her hands and knees and crawled forward until she made contact with her husband's taut frame. Running her hands up his chest, she found his face. When she placed a hand to either side of it she gasped, distressed by how hot he was. Still, though the fever was dangerously high it told her one marvelous thing.

He was alive.

As she scooted forward and pulled his recumbent form partially onto her lap she remembered the last thing he had told her. Charles had said he was 'all right' and that he was lying on a mat beside the hearth.

"Thou shalt not lie," she whispered as a tear ran down her cheek to strike his face.

He feebly raised his hand as if to bat it away.

Caroline caught it and held it like the lifeline it was. With her other hand she reached out and brushed sodden curls back from his face.

"Charles," she breathed. "Can you hear me?"

His eyelids fluttered. Nothing more.

"Charles?"

This time his lips parted. He tried to lick them but couldn't. "Girls...thirsty...' he murmured.

"Yes," she said. "You were trying to get water to them."

He was silent a moment. Then, "Mary...Laura. All...right?"

Pressing his hand between both of her own, she called out, "Mary? Laura? Answer me!"

The wait was agonizing.

Finally, Laura's precious voice responded saying, "Ma?"

She closed her eyes and whispered a quick 'thanks' before asking, "Is your sister with you? Is she all right?"

The words came hard. "She's...sleeping."

At least, for the moment, all of them were alive.

"Can I have some...water, Ma?"

The water bucket was beside Charles' head. It was about a third full. It took everything that was in her to tear herself away from her husband's side, but she did. Catching the bucket in her hand she slid it and herself over the floor until she came to Carrie's bed. Using her hands, she pulled herself up until she could sit on the edge. Caroline let a moment pass before reaching down and taking up the ladle. She forced a little water between Mary's lips before letting Laura take a sip.

"Not too much," she whispered.

Laura's eyes were fevered. She blinked once to clear them. "How's...Pa?" she asked. "Is he still...laying on...the floor?"

So she'd seen him.

"Pa's sleeping. I'll take him what's left of the water. He'll be fine." Caroline prayed what she said was true. "You sleep, now. You hear?"

There was no reply.

Caroline sat for a moment, terrified, and then pressed her hand against her child's chest. She sighed with relief when she felt the erratic beating of her heart. Bowing her head, she opened her cracked lips and prayed.

"But thou, O Lord, art a shield for me, my glory, and the lifter up of mine head. I cried unto the Lord with my voice, and He heard me out of His holy hill." A sob shook her as she turned to face the darkness in which Charles lay. "I laid me down and slept. I awaked, for the Lord sustained me.

"I will not...be afraid..."

She stood and realized a second too late that her strength was spent. Dropping to the floor, Caroline leaned her head back on the bed for a moment and then, catching the bucket in her hand, crawled back to Charles' side. Ripping a portion of her skirt off at the hem, she wet the fabric and then wrung the rag over his parted lips so the water could slip between them. At the last, she drank what water was left and then, shifting so she lay by her husband, wrapped her arms about his feverish form and fell into a deep restless sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Doctor Tane glanced at the sky as he neared the Ingalls' cabin. It was early evening and he was going to have to drop the beads off and then push his already tired animals to the edge and travel half the night if he was going to get back to the reservation by dusk the next day. He hated to be away too long. The Osage had so many needs, especially among their young ones. At least the sickness that had taken hold in Walnut Grove and on the outlying farms had not reached that far.

At least, no _yet._

The big man smiled when he saw the Ingalls' house come into view. Those little girls were going to be so excited. It was a joy and a balm to a man's soul to see how grateful they were for everything. Their ma and pa had reared them well. They were sweet well-disciplined children who seldom gave their parents cause to worry beyond what was common for their age. He chuckled. Hiram had told him about Mary's black eye and Laura's bruised knuckles.

That little one, she _sure_ did take after her high-spirited pa.

Pulling on the reins, George slowed the animals and let the wagon roll in. No one was about, which seemed a little odd, but then again it was suppertime and the family might be inside at the table. He didn't see a light either, but then he knew the Ingalls' conserved candles and oil as much as they could due to their limited finances.

As he parked the wagon by the barn and stepped down, a dark form shot out of the Ingalls' house headed straight for him. It took a second to recognize it was the family dog, Jack. Jack was fiercely protective of the Ingalls and he'd heard a good many stories about unfamiliar visitors leaving with the cuff of their pants or the hem of their skirt torn off.

"Hey, Jack," he said as he hit the ground. "It's me. George Tane. You know me, boy."

The dog halted several feet away. It cocked its furry head and studied him.

"That's a good boy, Jack. I'm here to see your family. Are they inside?"

Jack snorted out air and began his charge anew, aiming for the leg of his pants.

George stumbled back.

The dog barked and lunged forward, catching his pants leg and backing up with the cloth firmly between his teeth. When he failed to move, Jack dropped it and then howled. The sound was almost mournful.

Doctor Tane's gaze shifted from the Ingalls' empty yard to the house. Both were _too_ still.

Fear clutched his innards.

"Jack," the big man asked, breathless, "is something wrong?"

The dog barked again and ran toward the house. Ten seconds later he was back pulling at his pants leg again.

"Okay, boy," he said with a nod. "Let's you and I go inside."

What greeted him when he pushed the door in and entered the Ingalls' house raised the hackles on the back of his neck. Though there was still light outside, the interior of the house was completely dark. The only illumination came from the window by the door. In the ribbon-like beams he saw insects swarming. The room smelled like rotting food.

It was silent save for the sound of labored breathing.

Dropping the latch the Black doctor followed the Ingalls' dog inside. A low moan made him look to the left. Laura and Mary were laying in their sister Carrie's bed. He went into the room and sat down beside them and laid a hand on each of their foreheads. Both were burning up. Turning back to the common room, he frowned. Where were their parents? Surely Charles and Caroline would not have both left to find help.

And where was Carrie?

George rose and went to the other side of the bed, expecting to find a bucket or pitcher of water there. He was surprised when he found none and headed into the common room; his intent to circle the table and head into the kitchen. Laura and Mary were obviously dehydrated and needed water and that was the most likely place to look for it. As he moved he wondered how long they had been down, but even more, he wondered where the others were and whether they were sick as well.

As he neared the table his foot struck something. Bending down, Tane found an empty bucket. As he caught it by the handle and lifted it up he heard a small pitiable sound. It was almost a moan but lacked the strength to be called that, as if whoever had uttered was close to passing from this world..

George glanced outside. The light was diminishing but it was still there. Putting the bucket down on the table's surface, he returned to the door and opened it all the way, inviting the dying beams in.

What he saw when they struck the floor chilled him.

Charles. And Caroline.

Lying together.

Quickly moving to their side the Black doctor knelt. He couldn't tell if Charles was breathing so he pressed a hand to his chest and was relieved to find a heartbeat, however weak. Satisfied for the moment, he turned his attention to Caroline She was laying across her husband's chest. When he tried to move her, she fought like a mountain cat.

"NO!" she cried, striking out with her hands. "Charles, _no!"_

He caught her wrists and held them firmly. "Caroline. Caroline! It's Doctor Tane.! I'm here." He drew a deep breath and fought back the tears of a doctor who fears he has arrived too late. "Help is here, Caroline! Help is here."

"No. Charles..." she whispered as she fell against him. "Charles...no..."

Caroline was not as fevered as Charles, but she was still very sick. Lifting her up, the big man carried her to the bed she shared with her husband. In it he found the last member of the family. Charles' youngest girl was curled up tightly in a ball in a corner of the large bed and she was crying. He laid her mother down and then reached for Carrie. Picking the little girl up, he cradled her in his arms. Carrie was warm to the touch and obviously felt unwell, but it seemed the sickness had been kindest to her and she had nothing more than a mild case of the fever and ague that had struck the others down.

"Hush, sweetheart," he cooed as he moved into the common room. "Someone's here. Someone's gonna help your ma and pa and sisters." He touched her nose with his finger. "And you."

Though he hated to do it, he took the child and placed her in bed with her sisters. That way he could look after all of them at once. Then he turned his attention to Charles. Of them all it seemed Charles had been stricken the hardest. Knowing Charles, he had probably pushed himself to remain on his feet long after he should have been in bed in order to care for the others.

Kneeling beside him again, the Black doctor touched his cheek. "Charles, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

He shook his shoulder.

Again, nothing.

The big man looked at his patient. Charles had a slight build. His body was tight and compact. Dead weight was dead weight, but he should be able to lift him. Heading back into the bedroom he took several blankets from the chest and carried them into the room where he arranged them near the fire. Then, slipping his arms under the sick man's knees and back, he rose up with him in his arms. It was frightening how light he was. Charles had lost weight.

There was going to be quite a pitched battle ahead, not only for him as a doctor, but for all of the Ingalls.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was a bright beautiful summer's day and her family was at the lake. The day was blitzen hot. Ma and Pa and Mary and Carrie were sitting and laying on a blanket under a shady tree. Pa was sleeping and Ma and Carrie were playing cat's cradle. Mary was reading a book. For some reason Laura didn't know, she wasn't with them and, try as she might, just couldn't reach them. Every time she walked that way she ended up back here beside the lake, standing in her winter dress, sweating in the hot sunshine. She couldn't get her clothes off either. She'd tried. The thick wool coat, leggings, cap, and mittens she wore over her dress were like a second skin. She clawed at them and pulled and pulled and...

Nothing.

'You're sweatin' like a pig, Laura Ingalls,' she chided herself. 'Pa's gonna lock you in the pen.'

That made her laugh 'cause she could see him doing it. Pa'd play pull her into the pen and then he'd hop in with her and they'd both roll in the mud and come out looking like hoot owls with white circles around their eyes. She looked at her pa where he lay on the blanket and was surprised to find he was gone. Ma and the others were still there, but Pa was missing.

Turning in a circle she called for him. 'Pa! Pa!' At first there weren't no reply. Then she heard him – behind instead of in front of her – calling out her name all desperate-like.

Laura whirled to look behind and saw pa's head going under the water of the lake. He was gonna drown just like he almost did on their trip to Kansas! She _had_ to save him. Glancing down at her winter clothes, she knew it wasn't gonna be easy, but as he called her name again, well, she _knew_ she had to try.

Quick as a bunny she plunged into the icy water. The tide coming in fought her hard, pushing her a foot back for every one she managed to go forward. Pa's head kept coming up and going down. His voice was growing weak. It was longer between times he yelled.

Almost like he was giving up.

Fighting back against the water, she moved toward him, her hands extended. The deeper into the lake she went, the more her winter clothes took on water until, at last, the sodden garments began to drag her down. Her head went under too and she came up sputtering. When she did, it was only to see that Pa was farther away. His head was just a dot on the mirror-like surface. He went under again.

And didn't come up.

"Pa! No!" she screamed. _"Pa!"_

"Laura." Someone said her name. Just that. "Laura." She hoped it was Pa, but inside she knew it wasn't.

She sure wished she knew _who_ it was.

"Drink this, little girl. Drink it, it will make you well," a tender voice said.

It wasn't Ma's voice either. It was a man. He was holding her head up and held a cup to her lips. Thinking it was water, she took in a big gulp.

And then spit most of it out.

"You must keep it in you, Laura. I know it tastes bad, but the medicine will make you well."

She wished she had enough energy to wrinkle her nose.

"Yuck."

The man laughed. "Yes, yuck." He took the cup away and laid her head back on the pillows. "Can you open your eyes, child?"

She thought a moment. "Somethin's gluin' them shut."

"Here." A moment later a cool cloth wiped over her eyes, taking the crust with it. "Now try."

She fluttered her lashes and blinked. When her eyes popped open, she got a surprise.

It was Doctor Tane!

Laura frowned. "Do you think I'm an Indian? 'Cause you only take care of Indians, right?"

He laughed. "I made an exception in your case."

Now that her eyes were open, with the morning light streaming in the window, she could see him clearly. "You look awful tired," she said.

The doctor rocked back. He ran a hand along his chin and then scrubbed the stubble on his cheeks with his knuckles. "I am a mite. I've been up all night."

"You look like it."

He snorted and shook his head. "Out of the mouths of babes," he said softly.

Laura didn't exactly like being called a 'babe' but Ma would have told her it was impolite to correct him. She looked over at Mary and Carrie who lay beside her. Her little sister was sitting propped against the pillows and was playing with a doll. Mary was sleeping, peacefully it seemed, at last.

"What's wrong with us?" she asked.

"Fever and ague. You've all had it mighty bad."

The word 'all' made her think of the two people she couldn't see. "Where's Ma. And Pa?" she asked, suddenly frightened. "Pa was laying on the floor!" she exclaimed with rising panic. "He wasn't movin'! He..."

Doctor Tane's fingers caught her chin. He lifted it and forced her to meet his gaze. "Your ma's mending. Your pa," there was a slight hesitation, "well, _you_ know your pa. He pushed himself too hard so it's going to take a little longer for him to recover." The doctor let her chin go. "They're both sleeping, like _you_ should be."

Laura thought about it. She _was_ plum tuckered out. Unexpectedly, she yawned. "You're sure pa's gonna be okay?"

He pressed her back into the pillows. "I promise you, Laura, I will do everything in my power to make sure he is."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was mid-afternoon and the sun was shining. The sky was brilliant and now that the plague was ending, he could say that most everything was right in the world. Hiram Baker took his hat off and let the warm breeze riffle through his wavy golden hair. He was waiting by his buggy outside of the latest home that Margaret Scott had taken up residence in. He'd offered to take her home since the Smiths had no more need of her. The hefty woman with two double chins and a mound of curly white lambswool hair framing those chins, was a dynamo of energy that expressed itself in many different ways – constant prattle being the most irritating of them. But for all of that she was worth her considerable weight in gold. He would have lost twice as many patients to this illness if not for her willingness to move in and take over until the house's occupants could once more fend for themselves.

She was at the door right now, travel case in hand. Albert Smith was waving goodbye, a veiled but relieved look on his face.

When a body was wore out the last thing he wanted around was a chatterbox.

Maggie, as her friends knew her, offered him her case. Then she accepted his hand and allowed him to aid her in stepping up into the buggy. As she arranged her skirts, he climbed in beside her.

"And how are you today, Maggie?"

"Feeling blessed that the Lord felt fit to let me help another one of his ailing children," she said in her lilting Scottish accent.

Hiram looked at her, noting the pinched skin around her eyes. Her color was a little off too.  
"And how are _you_ feeling?" As she opened her mouth to reply, he added gently, "The truth, now."

She drew in a breath of air and let it out in a sigh. "Truth to tell, Doctor, I'm tired. But I've got a muckle more strength in me. Is there another poor family what needs me?"

"Isn't Walter going to miss having you at home?" he asked. Maggie's husband had been alone for nearly a week now.

"Pish-tosh. That man was a frontiersman. He so used to being alone, he doesn't know I'm home when I _am_ home."

He smiled.

Still, Walter had probably enjoyed the respite.

Hiram slapped the reins against the horses' rumps and started the buggy forward. "There's no one else so far as I know at the moment. I'm going to stop by at the Ingalls on our way just to make sure no one needs any assistance, and then I'll take you home."

"How fortunate those dear people were not struck down." She sighed. "That's a _darlin'_ man, and he has such a kind and loving wife and girls."

 _Darlin'._ Hiram chuckled inwardly. If Maggie had been twenty years younger Caroline would have had some competition on her hands.

She sat silent for a moment and then, out of nowhere, said, "I'm wondering if the Ingalls were eating those watermelons like the Smiths."

He glanced at her. "What?"

"The Smiths. They'd been to the bottom land and brought back several watermelons." She leaned in and lowered her voice, almost conspiratorially. "All of them ate them, and _all_ of them were sick."

"Are you suggesting that the sickness comes from...watermelons?" He was incredulous.

She pounded his knee with her hand. "Oh, Heavens, no!" she laughed. As he mentally sighed with relief, she added, "Twas the brackish water they were growing in."

He looked back toward the road. "I see."

Hiram supposed it was pointless to argue the finer point of modern medical knowledge with her. At least Maggie wasn't hanging wicker over the door and feeding her patients rye seed cakes to ward off the spirits.

At least, he didn't _think_ she was.

They traveled on for some time, talking and laughing and growing sober and choking back tears as they recounted the last week's adventures. The town was lucky. Walnut Grove and its surrounds had lost a little over a half-dozen people to the sickness. The price of the that was high in the terrible toll it took on the lives of those who lost loved ones, but it was cheap in the fact that it could have been easily been _dozens_ who passed. Cinchona was a miracle. All you had to do was get that and water into someone suffering from the fever and ague and they'd be right as rain in no time.

As they turned the corner and rounded the trees and the Ingalls' house came into view, Hiram felt Maggie's hand on his arm. He halted the team and looked. A buggy was already parked outside the Ingalls' house.

It was Doctor Tane's.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

The touch of a cool hand on her forehead woke her. Caroline batted her lashes and then opened her eyes to find the new day had come. The sunlight streaming in the windows at the front of the house illuminated the common room. She turned her head and looked up, expecting to find Charles.

Instead she saw Doctor Baker's much relieved and _very_ weary face.

The blonde woman licked her lips and croaked, "Doctor Baker...?"

"There's my girl," he said gently as he sat beside her. Then he turned and called out, his voice pitched low, "Maggie. George. Another one's awake."

An instant later a large jolly-looking woman appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a white ruffled cap as women had done in years past. It was tied under her chin and framed a kind face with apple red cheeks and crisp blue eyes.

"The Lord be praised!" Maggie cried as she raised both hands in the air. Then, becoming all business, she said, "I'll get her some soup."

"Oh, no..." She shook her head as the woman disappeared. "I...can't..."

"You need to eat and gain strength, Caroline," Hiram said, stroking her hair. "You'll need it to look after your family."

She sought his gaze. Those lines of weariness around his eyes were from caring for her and her children. She was better now, she could help. As she started to push herself up, Doctor Baker pressed her shoulders down. "Not yet, Caroline. Maybe after you get some food in your stomach. You've been laid up for quite some time."

She only half-remembered it – Mary feeling poorly and then Laura getting sick. "How long?" she asked.

Maggie Scott had come back into the room carrying a steaming bowl and a spoon. The doctor was in the midst of exchanging places with her. "Best as we can calculate it," he said, "four or five days. We don't know how long you were down before Jack brought Doctor Tane in and he found you."

"Jack?"

"Most determined dog I've ever seen," George Tane said, his huge voice rumbling up and out of his barrel chest as he came to stand in the hallway outside the room. "I knew something was wrong when he wanted me to come in." The Black doctor grinned. "Jacks a legend, you know, for keeping all of you safe."

Caroline licked her lips. "How are the girls?"

"Mending," Hiram replied. "They need to eat and rest and get some skin back on their bones, but they'll be fine. Carrie didn't come down with it as bad as the rest of you." He paused. "I sent her to the Edwards to stay. Poor little thing, she was pretty confused and frightened by everyone else being so sick."

Maggie had lifted her up and propped her against the headboard. She spooned some soup in her mouth. "Drink it all up, like a good girl," the older woman cooed, sounding like she spoke to a child. "I'm here to take care of everything till you're all well."

"Thank you," she said, accepting a second spoonful. After she swallowed, she looked around. The other side of the bed was empty.

Charles was nowhere to be seen.

Fear gripped her.

"Where's Charles?" she asked, looking from one to the other. When no one answered, fear gave way to panic. "Oh, God! He's not – "

Maggie slipped out and let Hiram take her place. He laid a hand on her arm. "Charles is alive, Caroline, but he's still mighty sick."

"Where is he?"

Again she had started to rise and, again, the Doctor stopped her. "He's in the loft."

She blinked. " _What?"_

Doctor Baker looked at Doctor Tane and then back to her. "We decided he needed to be where it was quiet, so he could rest without interruption. It took the two of us, but we got him up there. Caroline..."

He waited until she met his eyes.

"He's up there for you too."

"What do you mean?"

"By the time you're well enough to climb that ladder, you'll be well enough to look out for him yourself." He sat back and smiled an affectionate, knowing smile. "I knew there'd be no stopping you otherwise, so you just drink your broth and gain strength and, well, then we'll see."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was another full day before she was able to make it up that ladder.

Doctor Tane's powders seemed to work miracles. Laura was on her feet the next morning and Mary by that afternoon. By evening she was feeling much better, though she was still very weak. Caroline sent the older girls off to stay with their sister at the Edwards for a day or two since she couldn't look after them properly and it was high time Maggie Scott got to sleep in her own bed. The older woman insisted on staying another day, until she was steady on her feet, and then she said she would go home.

Even though it made her feel guilty, she couldn't refuse.

Doctor Tane had said his farewells that morning. He needed to return to the reservation and since Doctor Baker was staying until Charles was out of danger, he'd be on his way. The big man told her he would be back in a few days to check on them. Doctor Tane had stood in the doorway of the house, looking at her where she sat bundled and propped in the chair by the fire, and shook his head.

'And here you all were when I found you,' he said, 'more dead than alive.'

As her head crested above the loft floor Caroline paused. Doctor Baker was there with Charles. The physician was holding her husband's wrist, his bleary eyes trained on his watch as he checked Charles' pulse. When he heard her, Hiram stirred. A weary smile broke over his face.

"One more victory," he said as he rose to greet her.

She was standing with her bare feet on the floor now. Caroline took a few halting steps before Hiram blocked her way.

"You need to prepare yourself," he said quietly.

She began to tremble. "Why?"

He glanced at Charles' recumbent form and then turned back to her. "It's been nearly a week since you all fell ill and we haven't got much of anything down him other than water and a few spoonfuls of that prairie chicken soup Maggie made. He's lost a lot of weight."

She heard it in his voice. "And?"

"He's jaundiced, Caroline. That means his liver is involved." At her look he added gently, "Now, it doesn't have to mean anything more than that. With good care, the crisis will pass and he'll be on the mend like the rest of you."

She was looking past him. The window was shuttered so it was dark. She couldn't really see much of anything other her husband's shape lying on the bed.

"But it's not past yet?"

He shook his head. "Today. Maybe tonight. His fever's high and he's fighting, Caroline." He laid a hand on her shoulder. " _All_ you Ingalls are fighters. God preserved you and the girls..."

She nodded. "Can I see him now?"

He held her gaze a moment longer and then stepped out of the way. "Smells like Maggie has coffee brewing. I think I'll go get a cup."

Caroline listened to the doctor make his descent and then crossed to the bed. Sitting on the edge of it, she placed a hand on her husband's arm and was startled by how hot his skin felt. Charles was laying with his face turned toward the wall, breathing fast and hard. She knew from experience that fever was not a thing to fear unless it got too high. It meant a person's body was fighting hard, striving to stay alive. Charles Ingalls' had been striving his whole life, driving himself mercilessly at times, always being responsible, always doing the right thing even when it was the hardest path to take. He _was_ a fighter.

He was _her_ fighter.

Steeling herself, she took hold of his face and turned it toward her. The sight brought tears to her eyes. His skin was yellowed, his cheeks were gaunt, and there were hollow pits around those beloved green eyes filled with deep shadows. Charles' frame was small to begin with. Due to the fact that he was a farmer, there was _such_ strength in it. One of the things she cherished about their lovemaking was that strength. It was gone now, taken away by something they could not see or touch or taste or – in truth –believe.

The man she loved looked like a man with one foot in the grave.

Choking back tears, she leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "Charles, it's Caroline."

He stirred a bit and moaned quietly, not awake but responding.

"Charles," she tried again. "I'm here."

This time he moaned _and_ shifted, and then moaned again as if the movement caused him pain. "Stay still," she said as she looked around for the basin and wet cloth she knew had to be there. Wetting it afresh, she applied the cloth to his forehead.

The coolness did it. Charles' black lashes, long as a girl's, fluttered against the sickly yellow canvas of his cheeks. His eyes opened. She couldn't tell if he knew where he was or even _who_ he was. Taking his face in her hands again, she turned it toward her.

"Charles, I need you to listen to me."

His brow furrowed and his lips parted. "Can't..."

Caroline sucked in air. "Yes, you can!" she insisted, squeezing his hand.

There was a small shake of his head. "...can't..take care. ...girls... Caroline..."

For a moment she had thought he was quitting – that he was...giving up. In spite of everything, a small laugh escaped her even as tears trailed down her cheeks.

The man could be dying and he was worried about _them!_

She squeezed his hand again. "Charles, the girls are fine. I'm fine. You have to take care of yourself now."

This time when he looked at her, she could almost believe he was lucid. "...fine...?"

She nodded. "Yes, Charles. We're all fine. We're worried about you."

She knew why the sickness had taken him worse than any of them. Her pig-headed, determined husband wouldn't stop. He'd pushed and dragged through and cared for them when he should have given in and gone to bed. She reached out and ran her fingers through his sweat-soaked curls and then leaned in and kissed him gently on the forehead.

"Stay with me, Charles," she breathed.

A smile flitted across his lips and then he was unconscious again.

Caroline drew in another breath of air and let it out in several jagged sobs. The night would be long. The fever would break or it wouldn't.

Charles would live or...he wouldn't.

Remembering back to the day when they had held vigil together as they waited for word on their son's condition, she dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together and began to recite the words she had lacked the strength to pray then – the strength that Charles had given her in the moment of his deepest despair.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

As she finished, Caroline laid her head down on her husband's chest and let the tears flow.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When she awoke she was still in the loft, but was laying on several blankets piled on the floor instead of sitting on the bed. The shutters were open and a cool silver light flooded the upper room where their girls usually slept. Doctor Baker was a bent shadow sitting at her husband's side. The set of his shoulders frightened her and she bolted upright.

"Charles!"

Hiram stirred. He straightened up and turned to look at her. The moonlight twinkled in his pale blue eyes.

"Fever's broken."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Two days later, after she was mostly recovered and dear sweet Maggie Scott had gone home, Doctor Tane, together with Doctor Baker, lowered Charles out of the loft and placed him in their bed where he belonged. So far he had slept with only minor periods of wakefulness and even then, when awake, was barely coherent. Doctor Baker said it would take a few days for his body to recover enough that the sleep became natural. And even then he said, with a note of warning in his voice, they would have to watch him. Charles had passed a great many hours with a fever topping one hundred and one, sometimes reaching as high as one hundred and four. In all likelihood, Hiram thought he would recover completely, but he warned her there was the possibility of damage to the brain.

She sat now at her husband's bedside watching him. Charles' color was returning; a high healthy pink chasing out the sallow yellow of sickness. She'd taken a basin and cloth and bathed his face and hair as best she could. The curls were springing back to life just as he soon would. She'd gone ahead and sent the Doctor to pick up the girls, knowing they would be frightened to be away so long and that their presence in the house might help Charles fight back to health.

"You're a fighter," she whispered, for perhaps the hundredth time, as she held his hand and squeezed it. "You're _my_ fighter."

At the sound of her voice Charles shifted under the covers. His lips parted, his tongue seeking to moisten them. She grabbed the wet cloth on the bedside table and placed it against them. Then she reached out and stroked his hair.

"Charles?" she called softly.

For a moment there was nothing. Then he drew in a shallow breath and let it out slowly. A moment later, he opened his eyes. And then, then, her heart leapt.

He smiled.

She smiled back as she leaned in and kissed him. "Morning," she whispered close to his ear.

He licked his lips. "Is it?"

"Yes."

He looked puzzled. "Not...right. It was...dark. Laura needed water."

"She got it Charles. You took care of her. Laura's fine. All the girls are fine."

His eyes flicked to her face. "You?"

She laughed. "I'm fine too. It's _you_ we've been worried about."

"Me?" He shifted again and let out a little moan. "I'm...fine as frog hair."

Caroline snorted. "That's about right." Then she sobered. "Oh, Charles, I was _so_ worried. I don't know how... I don't know what I would do without you."

"No need to worry about this one," Doctor Baker said. She turned to find the physician standing in the short hall that led to the kitchen. "He's too ornery. No case of infectivity is going to take him down." The doctor smiled at her. "Sorry to intrude, Caroline, but I heard Charles talking. Since he's awake, I should examine him."

"Can I stay?"

His blue eyes met hers and he smiled. "Sure. Once I start poking around he might need someone to cheer him on."

She sat there, holding Charles' hand, sharing as much as she could in the discomfort the assessment brought him. By the time the doctor was finished those beautiful green eyes had closed again in sleep.

"I've left some laudanum on the table," Hiram said as he rose. "Just in case. But I don't think he's going to need it. He's sleeping naturally now." He ran a hand over his eyes and looked at her. "It's a wonder you all lived through it."

No.

It was a miracle.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Laura stood looking at their little house. Doc Baker had already gone in. So had Mary. But she was...well...

Shoot.

It felt funny, feelin' shy about going in. They'd only been away a few days, but the memories that flooded back when she looked at that front door made her heart pound and her head ache all over again. That front room had been there in her nightmares. Waking in the middle of the night and goin' for a drink of water and falling over her Pa's body where it lay on the floor. Jack barking and pulling at Pa's sleeve, trying to get him to move, but him just laying there all silent, burning up.

Truth to tell, she was scared.

When Ma came out to meet them, she said she had to 'prepare' them for what they'd see. Ma had looked mighty funny when she told them Pa'd lost a lot of weight and they'd hardly know him. She said he looked just like a boy again. Laura chewed her lip, considering that. She knew from listening through a crack in the door to a conversation that Doctor Baker had with Mister Edwards at his house, that Pa'd nearly died. She heard words she didn't understand – things like anemia and jaundice and _he-pa-tic_ failure.

Whatever that was.

It seems little was known about what struck them down or how they'd come to catch it. Some people in the town were saying it came from the air – from the vapors coming off the bottom land. Others, like Mrs. Scott thought it was the watermelons that had grown _in_ that land. That seemed silly to her. They hadn't eaten any watermelons lately. Just blackberries. At least no one blamed the berries.

She liked berries.

Boy, picking those blackberries seemed a year back and a mile away. They'd all rotted while they'd been sick and the crop was mostly gone now. Ma saved a few and she'd dried them so they could put them in with other fruit and make pies. Somehow them being gone made her sad. _So_ sad she wanted to cry.

A sound caught her attention and she looked up to find Mary standing in the open door. Her sister was paler than pale and had been since she was sick, but she was on her feet and helping ma, which was more than she was doing standing here on the stoop thinking and worrying.

"Pa's asking for you," Mary said.

Laura sniffed. "He's awake?"

She nodded. "Yeah." Her ice blue eyes narrowed. "Laura, he's gonna be all right."

This time, she thought. _This_ time. But what about the _next?_ What could a body do when somethin' you couldn't see or feel or hear could come along and almost kill your pa?

Or you.

Suddenly her mother was there in the door too. "Laura?"

There wasn't nothing for it. She had to go inside.

As she passed her mother, she felt a hand land on her hair. When she looked up, Ma gave her a small understanding smile. "I know it's all confusing, Laura, but remember this – remember your pa still being here is a gift from God and don't forget to be grateful."

That puzzled her too. Why should she be grateful that her Pa almost died? And if God was in charge of everything, then didn't that mean _He'd_ let her pa get sick and almost die?

"Yes, ma'am."

Mary walked part way with her. "He doesn't look so bad, Laura," she whispered. "Just skinny, like one of the boys at school."

Laura nodded. Then she drew a breath and stepped into the hall that led to their parents' room. At the end of it she found her pa. He was sitting up in the bed. His Bible was laying open beside him. Pa's head was tossed back against the pillow and his eyes were closed. She almost left. _Almost._ But now that she had seen him, she had to touch him just to make sure he was real.

Creeping forward, Laura leaned on the edge of the bed and brushed her fingers over his hand. When she did, his eyes opened and he looked at her.

A weary smile lit Pa's tired face. "Hey, Half-pint. Where you been?"

"We just got back from Mister Edwards, Pa. Mary and me and Carrie." She tried not to stare, but she was looking at him. Pa wasn't a big man, but he was strong. It showed in his arms and chest and even his face. That was gone. He looked weak as a newborn kitten.

It must of showed. His smile turned down. "Do I look that bad?"

She gulped in air. "Oh, no, Pa! You just...well..."

"I don't look like myself."

She scrunched up her nose and twisted her lips. "You look kind of like Johnny Johnson, only you ain't got red hair."

That made him laugh. When he did, he held his side as if it pained him. As she blanched white, afraid she'd hurt him, Pa extended a hand. When she took it, he pulled her onto the bed.

"Sit down beside me, Half-pint." When she had, he looked right at her, his green eyes big as the moon. "I want you to answer a question for me. Will you do that?"

She nodded.

"Are you mad at God?"

That made her blink. She hadn't really thought about it. "No, sir. I...don't think so."

"Oh," he said, leaning his head back against the pillows again. "'Cause I think I might be."

"You?" she asked, disbelieving.

He glanced sideways at her. "Your Ma's not around, is she?"

She shook her head. "She said she was goin' outside to milk the cow. Carrie went with her."

He dropped his voice. "Seems to me God could of stopped all of us from getting sick and all of those other people from dying if He'd wanted to."

She gave a little guilty start. She _had_ thought that. First after Freddie died and then, well...

"I thought God was gonna let _you_ die, Pa," she admitted.

He took her hand. "I thought so for a time too, Half-pint, and I was mad. You and your ma and sisters need me to take care of you."

"We sure do, Pa," she said, nodding her head.

"I got so mad, you know what I did?" When she shook her head, he went on. "I got so mad I started fightin' and I kept fightin'." He squeezed her fingers again. "I fought so _hard_ I made it all the way back."

She leaned on his chest. "Oh, Pa..."

"Now why do you think God would allow a man to be that sick?"

As she nestled into the crook of his arm, she shook her head again.

"Well, let's see. If everything was fine and dandy, I wouldn't maybe have talked to God like that."

She frowned. "I don't know if you're supposed to, Pa. I mean Ma would probably wash your mouth out with soap."

He chuckled softly. "Well, seems to me Moses did a lot of arguin' with God, and Jacob even wrestled with him."

That was true. "Seems a funny thing to do. Wrestlin' with God."

His arm went around her. "You know what we get from wrestlin' with God, Half-pint?"

"Other than a tanning?"

He laughed this time. "Stronger."

She looked up into his tired, skinny face. Then she lifted her hand to touch it. "Stronger?"

"Oh, I know I look pretty bad. It'll take a while for me to build up my muscles, but it will happen. I don't mean _that_ kind of stronger. I mean stronger here." He touched her heart. "Suffering reveals what we have in our hearts, Half-pint. It helps us to see where we're weak and where we need God the most."

"But Pa, you were hurtin' so bad."

"Do you think God made me sick?"

That was a hard one. Ma told her there was nothin' that happened that God didn't permit or allow. So, like she thought before, didn't that mean He caused it?

"I'm... I'm not sure, Pa."

He smiled. She'd been afraid he was going to scold her. "That's honest." He shifted back. "Do you remember Jesus' friend Lazarus? And what Jesus did when he died?"

She nodded. It was the shortest verse in the Bible. Reverend Alden didn't count it 'cause it was only two words.

"Jesus wept."

"So he was sad." Pa paused. She could tell he was getting tired. "Why was Jesus sad? He knows all about Heaven, doesn't he? Wouldn't he want his friend to be there?"

She hadn't thought about it that way. "I s'pose he was gonna miss him since he was still here."

"That's part of it, but remember Jesus was here to show us God, the Father. He wanted us to know that when we suffer, he suffers too. This world ain't the way it's s'posed to be, Half-pint. There's sickness and war and hate 'cause man gets to do his own choosing."

The Reverend Alden called that Freewill.

"So...you bein' sick was part of this world and God kept you from dyin' when you _could_ have?"

He leaned over and planted a kiss on her head. "Exactly."

Laura thought a minute. "You ain't mad at God, are you, Pa? You just said that."

He laughed gently. "I'll tell you a secret, Half-pint. I'm not anymore."


	6. Chapter 6 (epilogue)

Epilogue

'It's a wonder you all lived through it.'

Caroline was sitting by the fire. One of Laura's pinafores was in her lap. She'd been replacing the pocket but had lost interest in what she was doing and was staring across the room. Mary was doing homework in the loft and Laura was reading to Carrie in her bed. She could hear their little voices and it warmed her heart to know that they were there, together.

Safe.

It had been a long haul since the sickness that had almost claimed them all. Her strength was near normal and the girls seemed fine. Charles continued to struggle. They were two months into his recovery. Twice now the illness had returned, knocking him off his feet and laying him low with a high fever, chills, and sweats. Though he was working again, he had yet to regain his muscle strength and it was a daily struggle to do half of what he had done before. Mister Hanson had given him office work to do, which helped with their dwindling funds, but it wasn't easy.

It was _never_ easy.

Laying her work down on the chair, she crossed the room to where he was sitting with his chin resting on his chest. During the weeks where he could do nothing outside Charles had started to work on a new rocking chair made of willow for her. He'd been at it tonight and had fallen asleep sitting up. Moving to his side, she gently brushed her fingers against his cheek.

"Charles?"

He stirred almost immediately. After a moment he looked up at her, a sheepish grin on that handsome face.

"I did it again?"

"Yep." She laughed and held out her hand. "Why don't you go to bed, Charles? You look warn out."

He got that ornery look. "You coming?"

That had been something else that had suffered. Their time together. Still, they'd found ways.  
"Not yet. Too much work."

He glanced at the chair, but she saw it in his gaze. He was too worn out to continue.

"I wonder if I'll ever get it back," he sighed.

"What?"

A flicker of fear entered that gaze. "Strength. Energy. What I need."

She knelt beside him and placed her hand on his leg. "It will come."

His eyebrows lifted. "You're sure of that, are you, Doctor Ingalls?"

"Yes, it is my studied opinion," she laughed. "Or rather, it's Doctor Baker's."

The physician had been there the day before. He said the relapses were not uncommon for someone who had suffered as greatly as Charles had and that they would diminish in time so long as he continued to take the powders every time they occurred.

She was silent a moment. "I have a confession to make."

"Oh?"

"Yes. That talk you had with Laura? I was listening."

He smiled. "I kind of figured you were."

"You did."

He shrugged. "Well, if you'd been talkin' to her I'd of been eavesdropping."

"You're incorrigible."

That made him laugh.

"Were you really angry with God?" she asked, her voice quiet.

He looked at his hands, long and thoughtful. Then his eyes sought and held hers. "I was when Frederick died."

"But Charles, you were the one who held me up!"

His tone darkened. "I accepted it as God's will like a good Christian soldier. That doesn't mean I wasn't angry."

She sat back. It was like a physical punch. "I never knew."

"'Course you didn't," he said, his eyes dancing.

"Did you talk to the Reverend Alden?"

"No. I talked to God." He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Yelled at him really. Kicked and screamed and shouted and told Him..." He paused and looked a bit chagrined. "Well, I ain't gonna repeat what I told Him."

"Charles!"

He remained silent a minute. "You know what _He_ told me?"

Her eyes were wide. "What?"

He looked toward the loft where he had lain so long, hovering between life and death. "That He loved me and He had plans for me. Plans for my future and they included suffering just like his Son."

Her hand went to his. "Oh, Charles."

He gripped her fingers. "It's what makes us what we _are,_ Caroline. What shows us...well...what we're made of. Maybe I was puttin' a little too much faith in my own strength and not counting enough on His."

She nodded, unable to speak. Then she rose and went to the her chair and lifted her Bible from its place on the hearth. Returning with it, she turned to one of her favorite passages and read from Isaiah forty-three.

"But now thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, fear not for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee. When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee."

Charles was silent a minute. "That was a mighty big fire we just walked through, Mrs. Ingalls."

She closed the Bible and laid it on the table, and then offered him her hand. "Come to bed, Charles, you're tired."

He nodded. Taking it, he rose to his feet, wobbling a bit.

Caroline looked at him with concern.

Charles reached out and touched her cheek.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Ingalls, I haven't been burned, just refined."


End file.
